Take Two
by irislim
Summary: They've lived separate lives for over a decade when a private eye digs up the marriage certificate. Sometimes, love just needs a little re-examination. The modern AU where Dizzie may or may not have twin daughters who really, really want them back together. Lots of angst, then lots of fluff.
1. Chapter 1

"Not your cup of tea?"

He squints to see the bartender - the young man's form growing blurrier by the second. He squishes his face, discontent, and shakes his head violently. It's been six hours since he found Georgiana in that dirty, hellhole of a motel. It's been one hour since he finally, safely ensconced her in the most expensive room on this wing of the hotel. He doesn't know what liquid he's just downed, but he knows the drink - and the circus that is his life right now - is not his cup of tea.

"Not mine either." The girl's voice hits his right ear.

He swings his head towards her, and he catches his breath.

She's beautiful - fit, not too tall, with shoulder-length brunette waves framing her invisible face.

"You're beautiful," he says because he does. Alcohol - copious amounts of it - can be a very emancipating thing.

She giggles, and her laugh is beautiful.

"You're nice too, aren't you?" Darcy mumbles. His nose catches a whiff of her scent - something strong, yet feminine. "You don't betray people."

"That's right. I don't." Her voice grows a little harsher as she rights herself on the stool beside him. She demands a replacement drink from the disgruntled bartender.

Her movements feel exaggerated, but she's enchanting - entrancing. She hasn't asked him to get her a drink, and he likes her even more for that.

"You know what it feels like, right?" She says out of the blue. He leans his head on the bar, facing sideways, to listen to her.

"What feels like what?"

"Betrayal." She downs her shot and asks for another. Twenty feet away, people gyrate on the dance floor - and the band is way too loud.

"Yes," Darcy hisses. His focus is completely on her - Miss Enchanting Stranger. "My sister didn't deserve it."

In an instant, she's standing beside him, body pressed against his. It takes him a few long seconds to realize she's holding his collar in an unforgiving grip.

"What do you know?" She demands, eyes hot.

He wants to kiss her - wants to bed her - wants to do so much that he can't really fo -

"My friend sold my sister." His words come out broken, interrupting his own thoughts. The fresh heartbreak takes over him like drowning waves. "To be a call girl."

She looks unfazed for a moment, like she's taking it all in without surprise. Then she lets him go and slides back on her seat.

"My sister's fiancé dumped her - a week before the wedding." A stray tear escapes her. He reaches over to wipe it, but she swats his hand away.

"I'm so sorry," he says sincerely. There's something vulnerable about this woman - the limitations of her inner strength.

"It's not your fault." She shifts to face her new drink. "And neither is your sister's horrid suffering."

For the first time in three weeks of frenzied hacking, tracking, and chasing - he smiles just a little, even if it's on the dour side. "Thanks."

She nods, eyes zooming in on her drink.

"Were they supposed to marry in Vegas?" He asks a minute later, when his mind starts connecting the dots of the sporadic details she's just given him.

"No." She winces. "This was supposed to be her bachelorette trip."

* * *

They talk at the bar for the next few hours - exchanging mumbles and groans about how much life sucks. They talk about Vegas and how, at its core, the place is disgusting.

"Why did she want to come here?" He asks the blob of colors that is his surprise therapist. His head hurts. His limbs fly. "Vegas sucks."

"No argument there." She laughs coarsely. After she downs her eighth-or-tenth shot of the night, she frowns. "It was my idea."

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine." She moves around on her chair. He can't really tell if she's moving closer. "They were perfect for each other - sweet, kind, amazing. The whole Vegas thing was supposed to be a joke."

"A joke?"

"Puttin' devil horns on angels thing." She buries her face between her hands. He can't really hear what she's mumbling face-down.

"Sorry?"

"Jane was perfect!" She bolts upright. He barely discerns her throwing her arms around wildly. "What kind of heartless jerk dumps the best woman in the world?"

"Yeah."

There's a stinging in his heart, in his brain, in his eyes. It's miraculous that the stranger at the bar is the only person who understands him right now.

"What kind of jerk sells a friend into the sex industry?" He talks bitterly. His heart and his trust are both irreparably broken.

"Villains." She sneers.

"Yes," he agrees.

They both drink in silence for a few seconds. The row of shots in between them dwindles down just a little more.

"I'm Will," he says all of a sudden. He feels her moving closer. "Will Darcy."

"Lizzie Bennet." She hiccups. There's an abandon about her that he will never forget. Heartbreak knows heartbreak. She grins at him. "Now we're not strangers anymore."

"No, we're not." He smiles a little.

The thing is with Vegas - late hours don't really drive people _away_.

Another hour later, according to his watch, the number of people gets ridiculously stifling.

"You wanna take a walk?" He yells over the music, over the head of the person trying to get to the bartender by squeezing in between them.

She hiccups loudly. "Sure!"

* * *

It's been a long time - maybe two hours, maybe more - since they began their 'walk.' Will is her new best friend. He scoffs at Charles without ever having met him. He's super handsome when he smiles. He giggles like a boy at the height of his drunkenness - all gangly limbs and slippery steps and avowals of eternal friendship.

"You want shrimp?"

"Gonna wine and dine me?" She smiles up at him, her weight split between the wall and his sprawling chest. He's tall - and devilishly handsome. The scowl on his face when she first found him at the bar evaporated about an hour ago. He's smiling now - even if there's still a hint of a frown on his forehead.

"Can't let a girl go hungry."

"What a gentleman." She hugs him tightly. He lets her.

Somewhere down the corridor, something squeaks, then stop.

"Wait," Will Darcy whispers into her hair. She stumbles a little when he pushes her away.

"Where are you going?"

"Shh," he hushes her. She frowns after him, fascinated. Two shakes of the head and a slightly clearer mind later, she follows him.

"Will, what are you - "

His arms swing backwards to hold her in place. She tries to peer over the corner to see what he's seeing.

The room service cart - which just _has_ to be the source of squeakiness - lies motionless. The dull steel cloche sits idly on top of the wintry white sheet.

"Da - "

"Wait." He leaves her behind and runs for the cart. His arms dangle beside him as he hunches over. His movements are almost ape-like.

Somehow, she finds it funny and attractive.

"Wi - " She stops when she sees him check his surroundings, grab the top of the cloche, lift it, grab the plate of shrimp beneath it, and drop it again.

The sparkle in his eyes when he shuffles back towards her is priceless - mischief and charm and elation.

"Will!" She squeals when he reaches her. He grabs her hand, and they break into a wildly fun run.

"Don't spill the shrimp!" She laughs when their steps start to falter.

"Anything for my lady." He grins.

She loves that she's his lady.

"What the heck?" A loud cry volleys down the hallway from the end they previously occupied. "Who took the shrimp! Why would anyone - "

Their frantic giggles and staggering steps pull them away from whatever remaining curses the waiter had in store.

"Are you broke?" She half-laughs, half-shouts when their scampering dwindles down at the other end of the hotel courtyard. The plate in his left hand carries a whopping total of one decapitated shrimp. She takes the plate from him and smells the sole sea critter with exaggerated gusto.

He laughs. He's a little less wobbly now, just swinging from side to side.

"Actually, I'm loaded."

"Too loaded to buy me shrimp?" She smiles. She hasn't smiled like this for so long. The garden landscape makes her twirl - makes her feet light, airy, and happy.

"But not too loaded for a diamond ring." He leans towards her and presses her against the nearest bench. She sits back against it instantly - her lips against his lips in tow.

She's thought of kissing him all night.

The sensation of _actually_ kissing him is a whole different story.

The fountain behind him wakes, sending another three-tiered spurt towards the sky. Inside her, Lizzie feels the exact same way.

"Will." Her voice is coarse when she whispers his name. His lips travel to her cheek, her jaw, her neck.

With her eyes closed, she can almost pretend she's known him forever.

"Lizzie Bennet." His voice caresses her name, his hand her face. She opens her eyes to see how close his bottomless gaze is. The feel of his mouth still tingles on her lips. He's a good kisser - a great kisser - all things considered. "Will you marry me?"

And, just because he's proposing after three hours of acquaintance, sort of like a Disney prince - she responds like a Disney princess.

"Yes."

* * *

"The minister was funny - don't you think?" She wobbles into the room, giggles alternating with her words. When the latest wobble shoves her too far to one side, she shoots a hand out towards the posh hotel wallpaper.

Her new husband catches her before she does the wall.

"William - oh wait! Will!" She finds herself in his arms, embraced and beamed at, while he whirls them across the room.

She screams, then beams, then laughs. He keeps her off her toes - moving resolutely towards a single direction.

Given the spacious quarters and the fact that it takes them two doorways before they get to the bed, she figures he's gotten them the honeymoon suite.

"Oomph!" She feels like the wind's knocked out of her, when she lands on the bed.

He climbs on it right after her - and looms above her, a mountain of masculine might.

"My husband." She trails a finger from his temple to his chin, in wonder at the words. Somewhere along the way to city hall - sometime between their fumbling into the taxi and the taxi's driver glare when they started making out too much - she'd stopped being _that_ drunk.

But, even half sober, he's handsome and charming and protective to a fault.

So she married him anyway.

"Do you like your ring?" He lands on his side. She feels the warmth of his torso pressing firmly against her own. She smiles up at him. Even in bed, he's taller.

"It's a little big for a humble indie theater producer," she admits while lifting the back of her left hand into both their view.

He catches it with his large, warm, right hand fingers.

Then he kisses her hand, his nose avoiding the 3-carat diamond sitting on top of her ring finger like a giant rock on rivulets.

"It's perfect for you," he says.

"Not too flashy?" She laughs - then starts to moan when his lips start exploring her bare neck.

"Beautiful - just like you."

For the next fifteen minutes, memories of the grumpy minister, her off-the-rack-yet-somehow-magical wedding gown, and the corny chapel decorations fade away. She's making new memories - _they're_ making new memories - of his hands on her waist, her tongue in his mouth, his stubble against her skin, and their clothes on the carpet floor.

Her strapless gown zips down easily. His tuxedo takes just a little more work. Soon, it's skin against skin - hip against hip. His hands leave fire wherever they trail. Her gasps grow heavier, breathier. They move in unison - kisses and whispers and caresses as synchronized as if they've been doing this for years.

He stops briefly when the heat warms up to a fervor.

"Lizzie?"

"Yes." She grabs his face with both her hands. Her eyes, heart, and body are his - now and forever. "Yes."

She attacks him with kisses.

He welcomes her with his arms, heart, body, and soul.

Here, in the thrill of their unexpected marriage - here, in the privacy of their honeymoon sweet - any other troubles lie temporarily and dangerously forgotten.

* * *

 _A/N:_ _I've been wanting to write a "redo" romance for ages, but this was fully fleshed out only after a random hotel rewatch made me realize the mom in The Parent Trap is called "Liz." I do not follow the movie's plot, but many moments and scenarios are inspired by it. For now, we've only gotten as far as the impulsive marriage, but things will expand beyond their drunken revelries soon._

 _In many ways, this story will be the antithesis of "But That's What Makes It Love." One will be distinctly modern and the other completely Regency. One will be light-hearted while the other much more serious. I just hope that you guys will enjoy this too!_


	2. Chapter 2

He squints when the sun's angle hits his eyes. He can feel sleep rolling off him like gentle, summer waves.

For once, in weeks, he wakes up rested.

The unmistakable hum of industrial-grade vacuum cleaners echo from the hall. He shuffles deeper into the soft, warm, inviting mattress. The pillowcase tickles his face, but he just smiles against it. Events of yesterday morning feel a lifetime away.

His hazy memory reconstructs itself through the annoying headache he's nursing.

Did he drink last night? Did he end up hitting the hotel bar after wavering about it in Georgiana's room?

He shuts his eyes tighter.

His mind fights the rapidly-growing migraine. A face pieces together in his recollections - dark hair, pink lips - a girl. He remembers seeing her, greeting her - touching her.

He frowns a little, even in his half-asleep state.

For a moment, his mind chases after the relief he felt at finding Georgiana - basking in the triumph and comfort of the moment. She was a broken, very broken. Thank goodness he found her when he did.

The thought of triumphant comfort draws him even closer to his source of warmth this morning. He shoves closer, deeper. The linen sheets wrap around him like a lovely embrace.

"Mmm." A voice moans.

And Darcy jumps straight up - eyes wide and heart suspended.

His gaze spins downwards - towards his source of heat all this time - and he pulls away to the opposite side of the king size bed.

His hands reach out involuntarily - searching, grasping for anything that resembles his room - his eyes glued the entire time on the naked, breathing, female back at the other side of the white expanse. He finds his watch still on his wrist, his tie over the headboard. His breath comes back to him slowly, in gradual, painful spurts.

His memories rush back at him as harshly as his headache does, and his palms fly to his forehead.

Sure, he's heard of his peers never leaving Vegas without at least one one-night stand. True, he has friends - cousins even - who would applaud what he's just pulled. Yes, the girl probably never expected more than a one-night stand anyway.

Still, it doesn't feel nice to be this irresponsible.

Darcy hauls himself off the bed, his limbs weighing five tons each, and haphazardly tugs on the robe turndown service somehow left by his bed. Disgusted with his own behavior so soon after lecturing Wickham about a proper view of women, he trudges to the tempting balcony just a door away in the adjoining anteroom.

He's not quite upright, and he lands on the balcony rails with both of his hands squelched by the weight of his chest. It takes a herculean effort to prop himself straight - to leave his fingers curled on the rails like he's just your average Silicon Valley CEO after a Vegas fling.

He keeps his eyes casual - over the garden, over the pool. He tries to lounge, and he fails to lounge. He looks up, around, and down.

That's when he sees the wedding ring.

The string of curses that he lets loose over the next thirty seconds are the harshest words he's ever uttered in his entire, outstanding, 30-year-old life.

"There is _no way_ \- " He stops himself a minute later, halfway through his thoughts, and turns to run indoors.

He needs to confront her. He needs to condemn her. Her entrapment and manipulation - right when he's at his most vulnerable - is unforgivable. He needs to -

He stops short at the open bedroom door. She's still sleeping - more on her back now than she was a moment ago - when he actually used her as a _pillow_.

He knows he should feel disgusted.

But, somehow, he feels thrilled.

After another dozen curses, he runs a hand through his hair, heaves a world-weary sigh, and straggles to the nearest couch.

He lands on it unceremoniously, still just wearing the hotel robe and nothing else. He throws his head back - very fiercely, because he's just noticed the initials embroidered on the stupid robe.

He closes his eyes - pain and wonder and surprise swirling all over his consciousness.

If he could, he'd blame her. He'd blame her for her nefarious schemes. He'd blame her for the inevitable paparazzi trailing them all evening. He'd blame her for any child unwisely conceived in one fateful, rash, ridiculous night.

Too bad he remembers proposing.

Still barely awake, Darcy groans.

The corner of his eye can catch glimpses of the morning paper wedged under the suite door. He _knows_ he'll be on the gossip page for this.

He can only hope she'll cooperate.

* * *

She turns the shower pressure higher - and higher. She closes her eyes as the scalding hot water runs through her tangled hair, from roots to tips, and down her back.

He wasn't there when she woke up. That part was easy to deal with.

Then she heard him groaning from the anteroom just when she'd slipped out of bed and was about to wander into the ensuite bathroom.

She could rival the Flash at the speed with which she grabbed a bathrobe, dashed into the humongous bath suite, and locked the door.

Even now, ten minutes into the hottest shower in her life, she's still warily eyeing the door every ten seconds.

Unlike some people, her hangovers don't really come with memory loss. Her mouth dries and her stomach hurts - but that's the extent of her symptoms. She knew what she was doing when she downed her third shot in Jane's honor last night. She knew what she was doing when she lined up for that license, put on that fairy tale dress, and staggered down the aisle.

It just never occurred to her to think of how _he_ might react.

It's a fatal mistake that she's only considering it now - indubitably consummated marriage and two heavy rings on her left hand later.

She shakes - shivers, almost - like a cat when she finally leaves the safety of the shower. She dries herself haphazardly, still thinking of other more important things.

Will he be there when she leaves this steamed-up, tiled fortress? Will he even want to stay in a Vegas marriage?

She remembers how he looked last night - nice in his casual wear, divine in his tuxedo. They never mentioned jobs or homes or anything outside of names and immediate concerns. They barely knew each other. It was the first time in her life when she went with her gut.

And she doesn't really regret it _that_ much.

Lucas, Collins, and her string of ex-boyfriends has trained her to be remarkably perceptive about men's characters. Her gut told her this one was a keeper, so she married him.

She holds her breath when she twists the knob until it unlocks.

It's time to figure out if _he_ thinks _she's_ a keeper.

"Hey," he calls softly when the door finally slides open enough to give them full view of each other.

He's seated casually on the pink chaise at the foot of their gigantic, disheveled bed. He's now wearing the pants and shirt she saw earlier on the floor. Missing buttons mean that he can't make the white fabric close entirely - and leaves it open instead.

Lizzie swallows, feeling a little underdressed in her fluffy, floor-length bathrobe and towel turban.

"Hey," she echoes and takes a few steps forward.

He doesn't dodge - so it seems he's not _completely_ disappointed in her. She manages another handful of timid, Japanese steps before giving in to wider strides. Before you know it, she's in front of him - barely taller standing that he is seated.

"Lizzie," he says. At least he remembers that.

"Will," she responds.

It's almost helpless how she, the world's most resolute feminist, is reduced into a bundle of nerves in front of her brooding, semi-dressed, quiet new husband.

"Will - " She tries to start this time.

"We got married," he says - like it's the most boring headline in the world.

She nods. She doesn't regret it - but she's not proud of it either. Yes, her man is as handsome and charming as they come. Even alcohol-impaired, he was both definite and gentle in bed.

It'll be a little sad to let this one slip through her fingers.

Still, it's not his fault if he's having second thoughts.

"Yes, we did," she agrees, now anxious to observe his line of thought.

"Last night."

"Yes."

"And we had the whole deal - dress, minister, chapel, rings."

He sounds a little more light-hearted. So she lets herself smile a little. "Yeah - though I don't think we can return _those_."

He chuckles a little when she gestures at their rumpled clothes on over the floor. They've been heaped together - so he must've gone through them somehow. Then, almost as quickly as it came, his smile is gone.

"Can we not return them?" He says, haltingly, like he's unused to being unsure.

"Our - clothes?"

"Yes - and our - rings." His eyes look at her hand, then his hand, then her face. His gaze has a pleading edge to it.

"You want to stay married." It's her turn to speak slowly - to gauge his reaction word by word.

"Yes - for at least two years," came his unexpected answer.

"Two years."

"I can't take a scandal. I - I know it's unfair to place the expectations of my life on yours. You may have a boyfriend for all I know. I just - the board has been - hard on me, and I don't want to lose the company." He stands up and starts pacing the floor. It's mesmerizing, the way his muscled figure powers back and forth. "They've been painting me to the media like an irresponsible playboy - and I'm - I'm _not._ But, still - they're doing that - and I go out here and have a drunken weekend and just prove their point. But that's still okay, alright? That's still fine because 30-year-old CEOs act this way. I mean, _I_ don't - but _most_ do. So that's okay. But a _marriage_ \- that's - that's public record."

He stops his pacing and mumbling right in front of her. He meets her eye - a scared, broken man.

"You want to stay married - to save your reputation?" She reiterates.

Is he really a keeper? Did her spidey senses fail her again?

"I'll be a good husband - I promise." He takes her hands. She lets him. "I - I don't gamble or do porn or smoke or get regularly drunk. I - I'll give you everything you need - and let you live any life you want. I won't force you to change your name because you might, you know, want to retain your identity for the inevitable time when we - I mean, if you want to. And I'll learn, alright? I'll learn with my life what it means to make this work."

She looks at him wordlessly. Her mind processes his ridiculous proposition and tries very hard to see where he's coming from. He says he's a CEO. He says there's a company. He says he'll meet her every need.

How rich _is_ this guy?

She recalls the six-digit price tag on her dress last night. Then the answer comes.

"On one condition," she says. He looks at her earnestly, like he'll agree to _anything_ she says now. "I don't gain or spend or get paid a single cent of your money."

Gold digger - she is not.

He hesitates. Then he nods adamantly.

And just for the heck of this wild adventure, Lizzie smiles.

"Then okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes." She smiles wider. "Okay."

He kisses her - hesitantly, then fully. She returns his kisses willingly, eagerly.

And by the time they're wandering back between the sheets, she forgets that there was ever a moment when she doubted they'd work out.

* * *

 _ **One Year Later**_

* * *

"Darcy! It's been so long!"

He turns just in time to catch Bingley in a sudden collision - and to welcome his grand, sincere bear hug.

"So glad you can make it." Darcy smiles when he lets go. He is glad, very glad. An anniversary party - even the grandest sort - can only appease his mother-in-law so much over missing their supposed whirlwind online courtship and Vegas elopement. She buys it, but she hates it.

Darcy knows he needs as many of his friends by his side as he can get tonight.

"Are you here alone?" Darcy resumes his survey of the glamorized space. With a hotel bill this grandiose, they have better given them the exact items they've asked for.

"Caroline's still off in Paris. I know it's been forever since I've been saying that." Bingley chuckles. Darcy doesn't really quite care about this girl he's never met. "Louisa and Alfred are coming in the next flight, and Jane's checking in for us."

There's an undeniable happiness in his voice when he says Jane's name.

It's the kind of thing that makes Darcy happy he staged that intervention six months ago.

"The place looks amazing, man." Bingley looks around the drapes and flowers and origami and pink and white all around them in the still-untouched ballroom. "Lizzie really is an artist, huh?"

Darcy smiles. An artist is something he's learned about his wife in the past 364 days - yes.

He's also learned that she's a tad messy, a deep sleeper, a fantastic cook, and a seductress in bed.

He turns the other way to prevent Bingley from spotting any sort of unmanly blush.

"How are my slaves?" The trademark, brilliant, feminine voice echoes from the main entrance. Darcy turns to see her - chocolate hair cascading, arms bent, hip tilted.

It's as sexy as hell.

"Hello, _wifey_."

She grimaces just like he knows she will. "Hey, _darlin' -_ oh, wait - sweet poo?"

Darcy laughs when she marches over, acting more herself now with her comfortable, solid strides. He bends to kiss her just as Bingley's nervous sigh indicates that he finally realizes they were joking.

"Hi Lizzie." The best man in today's faux-wedding smiles. He extends a hand. Lizzie just slaps it away and hugs him. "Nice to see you again."

"Where's Jane?" Lizzie asks right away - because her sister is the only person in the world she'll prioritize over her husband.

Darcy snakes his arm around her shoulder. "Bingley says she's checking in."

"For _both_ of them?" There's a mischievous hint in both her voice and eyes. But Darcy feels something else under his hand - maybe nerves, fear. "Charlie, I swear - if you hurt my sister ever again, I will - "

"Un-invite me from every subsequent function in your life ever?" Bingley chuckles nervously. Lizzie echoes with a flippant, insincere, single laugh of her own.

Darcy waits her out. He's learned as much.

They _did_ fight over the guest list last night - but the make up session had been hotter than the words they'd exchanged, at least.

"It's our anniversary. I'll be nice." Lizzie smiles. There's a serene power in her face. She squeezes Darcy's waist. He pulls her closer and pecks her brow. "Let's just hope we'll be celebrating one of these for you guys soon too - alright?"

"Yes, of course," Bingley eagerly agrees.

"With no other person but Jane."

"No one else - ever."

"Good."

Then tigress Lizzie Bennet molts into wifey Lizzie Bennet, and she looks up at her husband with the most dazzling smile ever.

"Are you all done?" Her question is playful - suggestive even.

Darcy raises his brows. "If you want me to be."

"There's a new dress I got just for tonight."

"I know. You showed it to me."

"Well, _another_ dress then - in the room."

His throat tightens a little. "Another fluffy bathrobe?"

She slaps his chest. He laughs.

She turns coy again. "We have _three hours_ until the others come."

"But you already did your hair."

"I can do it again."

A yard away, Bingley clears his throat and shuffles awkwardly.

Darcy smirks.

"Bingley, please excuse me and my wife for a few hours. We'll see you soon."

It's a good thing his best man obediently, rapidly agrees and makes his way out of the ballroom before their first, passionate kiss.

* * *

"Well, that didn't go too badly." She whirls back into their hotel suite six hours later - feeling so much more carefree now that it's all over - now that they've successfully pulled off the largest bluff of their life. She doesn't even care that she's crumpling her dress when she falls with a bounce on their humongous bed.

"Your father has a way with toasts." Her husband smiles. He hangs up his jacket, as fastidious as ever, and walks over with his hands in his pockets.

He's really way too attractive to be real.

"Did you enjoy it?" She asks from her vantage point - previously perfect hair now spread all around her head and pricking her shoulders.

"Of course." He answers. Sometimes, he's so polite that she wonders if he really means it. "You looked stunning."

"Thanks." She bites her lip.

For a few weighty seconds, she just enjoys his smoldering eyes - their depth reminding her of the very enthusiastic way they destroyed the bedding earlier.

Thank God for turn down service. A wealthy husband has his perks.

"What was your favorite part?" She asks a heartbeat later. They way he takes off his shirt and undershirt is thrilling - too casual to be sensual, too sensual to be casual.

"My favorite?" He echoes as he straightens the items he's just removed and hangs them neatly on the back of the leather armchair.

"Mm hmm." She's making no secret of the fact that she's enjoying the view.

The mattress dips when he lowers himself next to her. She turns her body eagerly to face his.

"Bingley's toast was nice."

"Yes, it was," she agrees. The hard contours of his upper body are beckoning her lips, her chest, and her hips. She tries to stay focused.

"Your mother was remarkably cooperative."

"You're lucky she likes you."

He smiles at her then - genuine, relaxed, _happy_.

It's a far cry from the broken, drunken man she found in Vegas last year.

"Any other favorites?" She mutters, a little distracted now that he's started to trace his fingers up and down her naked arm. It's almost shameless how little it seems to affect him.

"The food was fine."

"I guess."

He starts kissing her neck - and she forgets how to talk for two minutes.

"Wait, hey - I got something else." She stops them when her dress is on the floor and her strapless bra pulled down to her waist.

"Something what?"

"Another favorite."

He pauses, maybe thinking about whether he should comply, then pulls back slightly. "What was it?"

"What I'm about to tell you." She's kept the secret for a couple of weeks now, waiting for the perfect time. Tonight is the perfect time.

"About what?"

She meets his eyes - and she finds it a little funny that he looks more impatient and nonchalant than she'd expected in her mind.

She pulls herself up until she's sitting on her legs. He mirrors her actions.

She smiles, because there really is no other possible expression she can manage right now, and puts a hand on his broad, sexy chest.

"I'm pregnant."

He doesn't react immediately. It takes two and a half seconds to sink in. It's not something they've avoided, but it's not something they've planned. The surprise she felt at the news may have since become excitement - but this is still his first time hearing it.

"Lizzie."

"Yes?"

"You're pregnant."

"Yes."

"With our child."

"Yes."

The short exchange seems to help him - and he starts to look less shocked. Still, he just stares at her, like a battery-drained robot.

Then, without warning, he springs forwards and traps her between him and the bed. She squeals at the surprise.

"Lizzie." His voice is tender now - charged with passion. She smiles up at him, blissful, content. "I love you."

"I love you too."

She returns every kiss he sends her way, and she meets him stroke for stroke, caress for caress. Their union is unhurried - a vastly different version from the frantic movements earlier today. He loves her, and she loves him. They're adding to their number soon enough.

On days like this, she forgets they've ever had an agreement.

On days like this, she's sure they'll last forever.

* * *

 _A/N: I know this feels so fluffy, but it really is just a calm before the storm. I tried to write some backstory for our favorite couple, supposedly just for one chapter, but it kept growing longer and longer. Chapter three will be angsty, and chapter four will feature a significant time shift. That's all I'm sure about for now. I hope this chapter was enjoyable! Love you all!_


	3. Chapter 3

She checks once - twice, thrice - in the mirror. The last 365 days may have taken away her abs, but she's thankful they haven't touched her face. She brushes her hair - three inches shorter than they'd ever been before - until they look right.

"What time are they coming?" Will yells from the bathroom.

She smiles. Somewhere between drunken marriage and anniversary party - and then between the grand party and the most beautiful children on the planet - they've gone from passion to pregnant to parents.

Somewhere along the way, the hollering started.

"Ten minutes," she calls back. His lack of reply implies satisfaction.

After last year's fanfare (and her mom's unceasing gushing), they've opted for something a lot more intimate and a lot more low key this time.

"You sure they can handle _two_?" Her husband steps out of the bathroom - shirt half-buttoned and slacks pulled up tight. Just a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror is enough to get her warm, wet, and slutty.

They've had their ups and downs in the past year - heated quarrels and equally-heated make-up sex. Her husband isn't perfect, but she's always ready to admit he's maintained his impeccable packaging.

"I've taught Jane all the basics," she assures - then checks her image in the mirror one last time. Despite it being a last-minute buy, the red silk does shape her well. She tugs a few more strands of her hair into place. He's always said he likes it down.

"Should I really leave them to _Charlie_? He's not the most - alert."

She laughs at his word choice. Lili and Gigi - ever united - start cooing in the other room. She turns around, strides over, pats Will's shoulder, and glides fluidly into the nursery.

"Not giving Mommy a night off, are we?" She leans over each crib in turn - always taking care to start from alternate sides to be fair. A few pats and kisses each settle them down. They learned about the twins at their second doctor's visit. She and Will took turns hyperventilating before they actually liked the idea. Lili and her brown head of hair said hello to the world first before Gigi's bright red locks (hello, recessive genes) took her turn. She's never been as in love with Will as the moment he cradled the tiny babies up to her, one in each arm.

According to him, her sweaty, screamy, crazy look in the delivery room made him feel likewise.

It's been a while since he's been as expressive with his feelings - but, hey, maybe tonight's break from wailing babies would evoke a little more tenderness from him again.

"He's here!" Will announces at the sound of a car pulling up. She can hear him pulling his suit jacket on.

"Give me a minute," Lizzie calls back. She gives a few more lingering glances at her precious little bundles of love. It's their first night out, unchaperoned, since the two bundles were born. Jane's coming later, but Charlie's handling the first shift alone.

Despite all her assurances, she _is_ a tiny bit nervous.

"I'll back out the car," Will hollers.

"Okay," she replies.

Neither girls are asleep - but both are surprisingly cooperative as they look up with their bottomless eyes, saggy dark circles and all.

Lizzie smiles.

"Hey, any last-minute instructions?" Charlie pops in with his voice.

Lizzie turns and offers a friendly smile. "Don't break up with my sister?"

Charlie drops his smile instantly. He looks down at his feet. "Lizzie, I know I hurt her before. There really was no reason - "

"Yes, I'm kidding." Lizzie laughs. Celebrating their second anniversary seems to make her feel more light-hearted than she's felt in months.

"Jane's coming in an hour," Charlie offers. "I'm sure she knows what to do."

"Don't starve them before then."

"I won't. They have Darcy's appetite."

Lizzie smiles at the comment. Where excitement and discovery reigned their first year, a quiet domesticity has been holding on to their second. Who knew tender Darcy, and hungry Darcy, and frazzled, fatherly Darcy existed?

"You and Jane would make great ones too, you know," she says for no reason.

"And we're not waiting long after the wedding," her brother-to-be replies with a grin. "We hit our 100 days recently."

"A hundred - oh, right." She smiles. With just three months to go until their big day, Jane is still being a pretty serene bride.

"And I'll never back out for the world," Charlie adds, sadness all over his voice and face.

For a moment, Lizzie's not sure what to say.

"I never should have listened to Darcy, you know?" Charlie mutters. Lizzie frowns. The kids' godfather doesn't seem to see her. "Sure, he sounded like he made sense and all - but it's not like he was right."

"About - Jane?" She says tentatively.

"Yeah, I mean. He never met her until then, and I can't expect him to know better than someone who's _actually_ known her. I'm lucky Jane said yes when I talked to her again."

"Mm hmm."

"He called me six months after your wedding," Charlie goes on, carried away. "It was the final shove I needed to get back with your sister."

Outside their apartment, her husband honks the car horn.

Lizzie makes sure she sighs gently - just a stream of air through her lips. "My _husband_ told you to get back with Jane?"

"Well, yeah - because he was the one who told me to stop dating her. It was just right that he should have - " Charlie looks up, meeting her eye for the first time. Suddenly, the open, happy gaze is completely eradicated, replaced by a shellshocked look.

Charlie's lips quiver.

Lizzie gulps.

"Lizzie, I never meant to tell you. I - "

"My _husband_ broke you up with Jane?" Lizzie echoes. Her hands start to clench.

Miraculously, her sister's fiancé looks even _more_ contrite than he did a moment ago. "Lizzie, I'm sorry. I promised Darcy I would never men - "

"It's fine." She shrugs it off suddenly. Charlie turns to look at Lili, who's beginning to complain.

Lizzie blinks, suddenly feeling the true weight of this unexpected conversation.

How long had they agreed to stay married again?

The car horn beeps. She gives a few last instructions to Charlie - and walks out in a daze.

* * *

"They were adamant, of course, that I couldn't do it." Across from her, across dozens of plates and silverware and candles, her husband rants away. "Ms. Knowles called it a delusion, and Mr. Crane said it was the most ridiculous idea he ever heard. And Spitzer - man, can you believe it? He insulted _me_ and said that I would _never_ make it big in the corporate world. I mean, I know I'm worth more than that - but it's still annoying to hear people doubt it. It's just - _they're_ the ones who are ridiculous. You don't think they - Lizzie?"

She starts, suddenly sitting two inches taller than she did a moment ago.

He frowns. "You weren't listening - were you?"

It takes her two full seconds to wet her lips and reply. "I was."

"No, you weren't." He looks both angry and hurt. "Lizzie, you've been like this all night. What's up? I thought you wanted this?"

"Uhm, yeah." She looks down at her plate. The lobster, despite the beautiful cook, sits untouched.

"Lizzie." He's still frowning, still not buying it. He reaches over with one of his large arms. She doesn't meet his hand, nor his eyes.

She hears him sigh. She knows he's frustrated.

The thing is, she is too.

"Lizzie." His tone turns impatient, demanding. She frowns down at her lap.. "Is this one of your episodes?"

"Episodes?" She looks up a bit. It's hard to prevent tears from clustering in her eyes.

"I mean - well, yeah." He props his elbows on the table. Then her lowers his head until he's able to run a hand through his hair. "It's our anniversary - alright? Let's be nice, hormones or not."

"Nice," she echoes hollowly. Her recent realization taunts her in the mind - dancing like a savage madman.

"Lizzie, you've been preoccupied all night. Is it the food? Is it the table? I worked hard to get us this reserva - "

"Why did you break up Charlie and Jane?" Suddenly, she keeps no prisoners - meets him right in the eye. He stills. He's shocked too.

He blinks thrice before talking, "Look, I can explain."

" _You_ broke them apart. _You_ caused Jane's broken heart and _fatal_ depression!" It's hard to keep her voice soft. All the trust they've built over the last twenty-four months begin to tumble, fall, and break.

"It wasn't _fatal_ , okay? She recovered! And they're together again. Who on earth told you - "

"So the end justifies the means?" She glares at him. The indignation in her blood keeps simmering. "Suddenly, all that heartache is okay because you _somehow_ got them together?"

"Lizzie, it's all in the past - okay? Why you would - " He groans. Then he runs his hand through his hair _again_. She sees him frowning, inhaling, then exhaling. He opens his eyes five seconds later. "It's our anniversary. Let's not fight."

The fact that he seems to assume _she_ can stop the fighting makes her even angrier.

"Just because it's a _special day_ doesn't mean you didn't do it."

"Our _special day_ , as you so eloquently put it, sees your sister and Charlie _engaged_. Why is this still a problem?"

"If you hadn't broken her heart, she wouldn't have had to go through _all that pain_. Vegas would've been _happy_ , a _celebration_."

"And you wouldn't have met me." His tone suddenly sounds final. She takes a moment to look at his face - and all its byronic glory.

The waiters bustling around them in impeccable tuxedos don't seem to notice the brewing storm.

"Do you _regret_ marrying me?" He asks first - growls, really. His hands clench the side of their laden table. She swallows. "Lizzie?"

"You shouldn't have broken them up."

"I did. I fixed it. Can we move on now?" Somewhere between the anger and the guilt - a sliver of sadness peeks through his gaze.

"I - we - " Lizzie frowns. Whatever intentions she may have carried onto their table earlier tonight - she's forgotten them now. Sure, they've fought recently. Not a month passes by when they don't.

But those fights were never like this - no undercurrent so strong, no stakes so high.

Suddenly, she doesn't even know what her goal in all of this is.

She sees her husband - her _incorrigible_ husband - open his mouth as if to speak and close it again.

It happens thrice.

"You shouldn't be so controlling," she says after their breathing softens. Her right hand nudges at her unused fork.

"Alright," he replies. "I won't."

For a moment, she wishes the table and waiters and other guests don't exist. All she wants is to run towards him, bury herself in his arms, and kiss their sorrows away. Their eyes meet tentatively - then warmly. There's always a heightened intimacy after every quarrel.

"But I draw the line at Wickham," he adds.

Then her little demon takes over.

"Are you _kidding_ me?" She shrieks. The old couple to their right looks at her. She doesn't care. "I can be friends with _whomever_ I want!"

"He's not safe! Anyone with common sense can see that he - "

"So _I_ don't have common sense? _I_ am the dumb one here?"

"He's - he has a record. I know you met him at work or some other safe place and have a great impression. But _I_ know the _real_ him."

"He's a great guy."

"Yes, maybe he _seems_ that way."

"But why wouldn't he be? He's a kind, generous man!" She demands. Her husband - man of reason - has always seemed to have an irrational side.

The words George Wickham seems to _always_ bring that side out.

"I know what he's done before."

"What?" She folds her hands and pulls back. There are days when she's sure she knows better than her husband - despite the eight-year gap and all. Men can be such _children_.

"I'm not at liberty to disclose what he - "

"So nothing then - nothing." She humphs. She watches his eyes turn from open and warm to harsh and stony. "And you somehow want me to stop being friends with one of the nicest men in the world?"

"He's a _villain_."

"He's my _friend_ , you jealous nincom - "

She stops herself, though she's not sure why.

They've drawn enough attention to have thoroughly destroyed their own dinner - and another dozen people's. There have been fights they've resolved. There have been fights they've just ignored.

This one - they keep going back to.

"Check please," Darcy hollers - and the waiter doesn't dare disobey.

* * *

He strolls indoors two minutes after she dashes in. It takes two harsh shoves for the front door to close.

He always knew a suburban home was a bad idea.

It was all _her_.

"Hey, Lizzie - you guys are back early." Bingley's voice is distinct. Darcy frowns harder. His fingers curl and unfurl repeatedly in rapid succession.

"Oh yeah. Dinner was - a little pointless." The careless way Lizzie answers, even outside of his view, is hurtful.

Darcy - angry, hurt, confused - tumbles on to the couch that his _wife_ had picked for them. It's too low for him - too beige, too old-fashioned. All she had to do was put that twinkle into her beguiling eyes, and he just gave in.

Has he always been such a doormat?

Hasn't he given her enough of what she wants?

The fact that, despite his best efforts into making the marriage work, she _still_ wants to be friends with Wickham is baffling to him. It's betrayal - treachery.

"Are you sure you guys don't need any more time?" Bingley's half-talking to Lizzie, half-talking to him as he's ushered into the living area.

Darcy tries to scowl a little less hard just for a few seconds.

"Darce, Jane hasn't even made it yet. Do you need - "

"No, it's fine. Thanks for your help," Darcy bites. It's hard not to frown at the angry, saucy look Lizzie is sending his way from behind their friend and babysitter.

"Okay, if you say so. Really, though, I can help anytime. I've never disliked kids, and I - "

"Charlie, just go." It's Lizzie who speaks.

Maybe she's as impatient to resolve this never-ending fight as he is.

Neither of them move as Bingley - looking very confused - shuffles his way out to his car.

Then, it's just them.

In the background, Lili and Gigi make a few cooing sounds. The sounds are usually cute.

Right now, they're not.

"Lizzie," he starts, proud of himself for offering an olive branch, "this is not okay."

She glares back his way, arms folded. Her sweet motherly instincts aren't in control tonight.

Darcy swallows. "I've tried not to care about all your other artsy colleagues, okay? But Wickham's bad for you. You know that."

She scoffs now, and she rolls her eyes.

His gut tells him this isn't over.

"And who is to say he's bad for me?" She questions. Her curves are on full display when she leans against the wall like this.

But this is not the time.

Darcy feels his frown harden. "I don't know what you think about strange, flattering men - but he's dangerous and he's - "

"Strange, flattering men like _you_?" She scowls. She's not inching closer, not like the times when she knows she's at least a little bit wrong. "I married you in less than 24 hours, didn't I? I know I'm a good judge of character."

Now it's his turn to scoff, loudly. "You got _lucky_ you met me at the bar. The average man isn't as kind and gentlemanly, and you can't expect - "

"Oh, _so lucky_ to marry _you_ , huh?" He sees her eye glisten a little. "So that you can be _kind_ and _gentlemanly_ enough to ban my social choices?"

"I haven't _banned_ you from anything!"

"Oh - nothing except George Wickham." Her voice takes on a sing-song, mocking quality.

He fumes. Two shoves and he's off his chair, pacing.

She stays put. One of the girls starts to cry.

Then Lizzie starts to cry.

This time, it's not the tender, cute sort.

He stops in front of her, chest heaving. "I'm trying to _protect_ you."

"I'm trying to _be myself_. Is there so much harm in that?" She challenges him. He wonders if she means what she says.

"Being yourself means being an artist," he barters. "It means living your life, and I've tried my best to let you do that."

"Uh huh." She looks away from him.

"Lizzie - "

"But you draw the line at my having any guy friends?" She asks hollowly.

He closes his eyes. "Just Wickham."

"Because you're afraid he's better than you?" She whips her face back towards him. There's a manic, incredulous edge to her voice. "I won't cheat on you, you know?"

Maybe because he finds her even considering the possibility offensive, or maybe because she made similar sounds earlier - but, for one reason or another - he scoffs and says. "Uh huh."

"I won't!" She pushes him. He falls back a couple of steps. The tears stream freely down her face now. " _I_ married _you_ , maybe against my better judgment, but I'm not gonna let anyone make me unfaithful."

"You know what I'm saying is right. Lizzie, you - "

"You _broke up_ Jane and Charlie," she screams. He belatedly realizes she's been walking backwards, away from him, for the last five seconds. "You _ban_ me from the only real friend I have from work. _I_ moved to California for you. _I_ gave birth to our babies. _I_ put _my_ life on hold because you made me promise to live yours for _two years_."

The fact that this quarrel is happening on this exact day brings tears to his eyes too.

"I never asked you to do those things," he mumbles. It's a lie, because he knows he has - just a little.

"I gave up _real_ things for you." She sniffs. Her hand is on the doorway of the girls' room now.

In his heart, he knows he should explain. He knows he should tell her exactly _why_ Wickham is dangerous. He can even ask for forgiveness - for ever thinking he can hide the fact that he was the one to break up her sister and his friend.

His pride says, "Well, I did too."

She groans, sniffing and sobbing, and runs past him into their bedroom. He watches, with blind, open eyes, as she extracts a suitcase from the closet, dumps a roll of clothes inside, snatches her wallet, grabs her phone, and runs back towards the nursery to take Gigi from her crib.

Surprise, shock, and incredulity glue him in place as she hauls everything she's collected outside - and waits on the sidewalk until an Uber picks her up - presumably for somewhere far away from home.

Two hours later, he collapses beside Lili's crib.

Both father and daughter cry.

* * *

Fourteen hours after she barged into the backseat of her pitch-black Uber, she stands at the foot of the strange, familiar building. Her left arm rocks a crying Gigi. Her right hand fumbles for the long-unused key. Jane isn't home, but the apartment should still be intact.

Lizzie sniffs - thrice per step - as she struggles her way up the narrow, NYC stairway - luggage and baby in tow.

Gigi's blanket smells of airplane. Lizzie knows her own hair does too.

She tries to remember, and tries to forget. Each piece of furniture greeting her cries out about a life before Las Vegas, before William Darcy.

She barely has time to slide Gigi down on the couch before she tumbles on to the floor herself.

She swears to start fresh. She swears to move on.

Crying in the middle of the night in a godforsaken apartment - sweaty, aching, empty, and burnt - she wonders if she ever really could.

* * *

 _A/N: Sorry to burst the bubbles! If it's any comfort, this chapter was the absolute hardest to write, though it was necessary that it exist for us to get to know Lili and Gigi eventually. Here ends the first act. The next chapter will see our characters after a decisive time jump. I hope you're still on board for this story!_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Eleven Years Later**_

* * *

It didn't take long for her to know - pretty much from the first moment she met him - that William Darcy was the man she would marry.

He's rich, he's handsome, he's single - he practically met _all_ her standards. And even if he seems to be on the old side and the safe side, and even if 35 really is a little too young to give up her bohemian lifestyle - she figures he's worth it.

With those three annoying leeches - plus Jane Bennet - Charlie's not about to support her forever.

"This house, ma'am?" Her Uber driver slows down cautiously down the row of extravagant houses. It bothers her a little that the gate of the gated community wasn't really closed today.

It bothers her _a lot_ that this is the first time she's visiting his house.

She's practically his girlfriend!

"Didn't I tell you 113? Numbers, idiot." She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms just as she leans back on the posh black leather. Uber Black has its perks.

The driver groans. She figures she'll just give him a one-star review.

Three minutes later, they pull up on the driveway of the most modern-looking mansion on the block. It's all glass and blue and grey. It's amazing he got away with building this in a zip code this historic.

For a moment, she almost salivates.

She knows William did mention a pool - maybe even a hot tub.

She tugs at her bag subconsciously.

"Ma'am?"

He's really annoying, she decides, as she shoves her way out the Lexus. Too bad she can't really choose to pay less.

The California sun beats down harshly the entire way up towards the front door. She's tempted to put a hand up to shield her eyes - but decides against it. Who knows what Darcy sees out of his helicopter-grade tinted windows?

The doorbell doesn't give off a sound the first three times she presses it; so she rings it another six times.

"Caroline." The door opens. Darcy's chest is delectably wide thanks to his chivalrous act.

"Hi." She smiles, now coy. They went through four dates before he let her hold his hand. When she pecked his cheek after the first date, he froze and has kept his face a clear, determined distance away ever since. Last week was date number eight, when he finally let her kiss him on the lips - and only now is he letting her visit.

She's not about to let him get away.

"Am I too early?" She asks, taking care to look apologetic. Her average past boyfriend (2 of which she's told Darcy, 15 by her count) wanted flair, skin, and seductive lip poses.

It only took her 24 hours to notice that this one wants a girl next door.

He checks his watch. Then he smiles a little. "You're fine."

"Oh, I was so worried. Thanks." She sashays in, taking care not to smile _too_ widely. She hears the faint sounds of splashes. She figures the elusive Lili Darcy is in the legendary pool.

She flips around after he shuts the door. It takes great effort not to soak in the beauty of the sprawling, luxurious, chromatic living area. "Should I slip on my swimsuit?"

He looks surprised, like he never had that play up his sleeve. He thinks visibly, then shakes his head.

"It's fine. Lili doesn't like swimming with strangers." He sighs under his breath. The rumors of eccentricity really can be true. "Come on, this way."

Caroline follows obediently, and she only takes his hand after he helps her down the steps towards the backyard.

The place is as impressive as its indoor counterpart. Again, she tries not to stare too much, or too obviously.

"Lili!" Darcy calls across the water. A tween girl - all dark red hair and keen eyes - splatters her way over. She's a regular swimmer. That much is obvious.

"Daddy," the creature greets when she finally pulls up by the side of the pool, treading water all the way. Darcy proves over the next two minutes that he's capable of smiling without looking constipated.

"There's someone I want you to meet," he says, disappointingly casually.

"A new nanny?" The girl grins.

"Lili," Darcy levels. The girl laughs.

Caroline hates that the tiny imp is making her nervous.

She should never have agreed to visit on a Saturday afternoon.

"This is Caroline." Darcy turns to pull her by the elbow, presenting her like a prize.

Caroline beams, feeling _exactly_ like a prize.

"Hi." She extends her tanned, toned arm. The girl glares.

"Lili," Darcy says again.

"Who is she?" Lili Darcy demands, narrowing her eyes.

"Caroline is - " Darcy hesitates.

Caroline holds her breath. She prods him mentally - say 'girlfriend,' _please_ say 'girlfriend.'

"She's Uncle Charlie's sister," Darcy concludes.

She's afterwards rather thankful he doesn't hear her string of hushed curses.

"From Europe? The one who kept spending all his money?" Lili prattles. Her green eyes, wide and childlike, are annoying as hell.

"Lili."

"Just kidding, Dad." She laughs. Then she leans over with such a strong gesture that water lands all over Caroline's outfit before they could finally manage their handshake.

"Lili!" Caroline screeches, losing her cool for twenty horrific seconds.

Then, to her eternal embarrassment, Darcy _laughs_ with his daughter.

Caroline glances downwards, hoping at least that she's chosen to wear white today.

It's a cut to the heart when she finds out a few stray leaves have added themselves to her walking mayhem of an attire.

"I'd lend you clothes, Aunt Caroline, but I'm afraid they won't fit." Lili - the villainous, minuscule witch - has the audacity to say.

"It's fine." Darcy finishes with a few more straggling chuckles. "I'll get some in my room."

Caroline beams, for three seconds.

"I still have Lizzie's three thousand bathrobes, I think," Darcy mutters before running indoors.

Caroline wonders, to the background of splashing water, if it's an honor or an insult to be offered his dead wife's clothes.

How she feels when she stumbles into her Uber two hours later - in a grandma-sized bathrobe, carrying coffee in her hair, and with a comment in tow about her having to dry clean and return this frumpy outfit - is all insult from Darcy and plotted vengeance for his demonic, green-eyed daughter.

* * *

A whole bottle of merlot can't wash away the embarrassment tonight, so she hits the bar instead.

"Get me three more," she hollers after her first six shots are gone.

The bartender obliges.

"Another two - four - ten!" She slurs ninety minutes later. She giggles, softly.

The bartender, bless his soul, pours them all in a row for her.

She downs them in rapid succession. If anyone sees her now - except stuck-up Darcy - they'll be impressed.

"More?" The handsome bartender offers when the last empty glass slides off her fingertips and on to the varnished dark wood.

Caroline grins. "On you?"

He doesn't even _flinch_. "I don't have that right."

"Uh huh." She tries her best to look sultry. The deep-V dress she grabbed before she angry-drove here helps.

Mr. Bartender smirks. "Putting on a show?"

"Only for the handsomest man in the room."

He laughs - a little too tightly for Caroline's tastes - and she wonders if she's starting to be a little drunk.

"What's this about the handsomest man in the room?" A stranger plops down on the bar stool beside her.

She gives him a condescending once-over - that ends with her eyes glued to his _really_ handsome features.

"Hey," she flirts.

"Hey," he flirts back, one elbow on the bar.

In this lighting, in this unbuttoned button-down shirt - he's handsomer than Darcy ever was.

Caroline grins. She leans closer. Her siblings may prefer the settled-down variation of life - all 2.5 five kids in a row. Charlie may like to pretend he only has a submissive wife - and no wild sister.

Sure, a small part of her wants what he and Jane have too.

But, tonight, she wants _danger_.

It's not like Charlie and Jane even remotely pretend she exists anyway.

"Making friends at high places?" She flits her eyelashes at him.

His charming smile doesn't shift a single inch.

"Looking for strange bedfellows?" His blue eyes burn - sear into her face.

It's been a long time since she's felt this flattered.

"So sure you're a _bed_ -fellow?" She whispers.

"For the likes of you - in a heartbeat." He stops smoldering for a moment and looks away to order and down his own shots. She misses the attention instantly.

"All by yourself?" She asks when he finally looks back at her.

His hand finds her arm. His thumb runs intoxicating circles on her skin. "No."

She tires not to look disappointed.

"I think I was meant to find you," he concludes - and kisses her.

It takes her by surprise. He looked too sober to give her a drunken, indulgent kiss.

It takes her only one second to realize that he _is_ sober - and that this is _not_ a drunken kiss.

"Hey," she gasps when he pulls away, just after she starts kissing him back. Tints of her lipstick stain the middle of his mouth. He's sexy - as hell.

"Hey yourself." He smirks. "Hope you're here alone too because - "

She throws herself at him, her lips cutting him off mid-sentence. He reciprocates right away, hands flying to press her waist closer. The thrill in her spine tells her that she's never, ever been kissed this thoroughly, this determinedly.

The back of her mind - still running on autopilot - has her reaching into her purse for two hundred-dollar bills - and tossing them to the now-unhandsome bartender.

They kiss all the way to her car - and for most of the drive to her place. He drives, though just with one hand. They barely make it into her apartment clothed, her zipper already all the way down. The doorman knows her well enough to stop asking questions.

"Beautiful." He whispers above her when they're both stark naked, his chest pinning her down against her bed.

"Flirt." She pulls him down - without a drop of hesitation.

It doesn't even occur to her Darcy might find out about this until they're done - bare limbs and bare bodies sprawled upon the covers. Then again, it's not the first time anyway - and it's not like her pseudo-boyfriend had figured _those_ out.

"You're awesome." Her bedfellow pants.

She grins and slides against him.

"Shouldn't I have a name for my conquest?" She asks with the cock of a brow.

He laughs - and kisses her.

"George Wickham, at your service."

* * *

"And that's when Emily admitted that she actually liked Zach _all along_ , and we all laughed because it took them _so long_ just to figure it out themselves. Then Jenny said that if there wasn't an accident in the cafeteria, then Zach might say he liked _her_ and then Emily would be so heartbroken and, like, crying. Then the teacher'll come in and ruin it - and we don't even know if it was right. I mean, we _should_ have staged the accident, right, Daddy?"

Lili looks up at him, green eyes dancing.

"And that's where all the private school money goes - huh?" Darcy grins. The dining table feels big, especially with just the two of them. He's hasn't _fully_ gotten used to that yet, after all these years.

He grabs her hand. She struggles a little before settling in. She's glowing, as always - a beautiful memento of the marriage that could have been.

It took him ten years to regain the board's trusts - and to assemble a new team that would help him lead the company into the 21st century. During those ten, long years, he's heard all sorts of stuff said about Lili, and about Lizzie. He just agreed to most of them - except when it came to his one and only child.

"Are you being - reflective again?"

He meets her eyes. Then he smiles.

"You always know, don't you?"

"Of course."

He sighs. She's growing up - without a mom, without a feminine influence in her life apart from the fast-shifting housekeepers. The experiment this afternoon may not have worked out too well - but he can't just stop trying.

"Do you ever feel lonely, Lili? Most of your friends have siblings at home." He's trying to be open with her - trying harder than he ever did with her mom.

Lili shrugs. The movement brings light to the hint of red that's weaved into her brown locks. "It's fine here. You're enough."

His heart warms because it's inevitable. How this mischievous, witty, exciting little girl can look up to him with this kind of admiration is an incredibly touching fact - and more than he deserves.

"You don't want any more brothers and sisters?" He asks, just in case he feels like giving some to her.

"No, not really." Lili gestures all around them. "I don't know if I want to share all this, you know."

Darcy laughs. His daughter laughs too. God in his mercy at least left him _her_.

Thank God for his lawyer's wisdom upon the twins' birth, he supposes.

It takes a few moments for him to recover, to recall why he started this conversation in the first place.

"And a mom?"

"Mom?" She echoes, still playfully.

Then, in three visible, painful seconds, the light in her eyes shuts off - and her spirit tumbles back to earth.

"Dad," she says with a very, very level voice - like an adult's. He tries to listen attentively. "You're not getting married, are you?"

He weighs his words.

He leans over to kiss her brow before pulling back. "Would that be so bad?"

"To _Caroline_? Yes!" Lili screeches, all while jumping to her feet - a deadly, pouncing tigress.

"Lili, I didn't say - "

"And to think my mommy was _so pretty_." All of a sudden, the child's lamenting. The crestfallen look she sports when she drops on her chair again is either natural talent or effective drama class.

He doesn't have a clue which one it is.

"Lili, I don't think I've ever shown you - "

"I saw her pictures on your computer," she admits.

Darcy swallows, suddenly doubting every single parenting decision he's ever made.

"Mommy was so pretty - and - and _real."_ She's crying now, for real. "How can you think of getting a plastic woman like _that_ to replace her?"

She asks out loud the question that always been in his heart, and Darcy nearly walks away to shed tears of his own. He's moved on, of course - it's been too long for him not to. He's dated - on and off, here and there - for the better part of the last six years. No one ever made it into his life on a permanent level. No one can replace Lizzie - not even the daughter she had been contractually obligated to leave behind.

"I know Mommy's been dead forever," Lili talks. Darcy feels emotions he's never really felt before. It's a concoction - of regret, of guilt, or sorrow. Lili came up with the lie herself; he only allowed her to believe it by omission. "But maybe we can find someone _more_ like her?"

Darcy looks at her. Fatherly waves of realization roll off him at the recollection of a smart, perceptive, assertive young woman.

He thinks, for the fifth time in recent memory - how much she's just like her mom.

Darcy sighs. He puts a hand on her shoulder.

"I don't think I'll marry Caroline - alright? But," he adds before she can rejoice, "maybe I _will_ marry again - and I can't promise to whom."

* * *

The drowsy, late morning light filters prettily into her condo. She catwalks barefoot across the carpet. Heading to her place each time they rendezvous means that she never gets to wear his button-downs or inspect his stuff - but the silk robes she gets to wear here make up for it, somewhat.

"Hey, peach." He greets behind her, simultaneously snaking his arms around her waist. Given that Darcy hasn't agreed a single time she tries to label them as girlfriend and boyfriend - she hasn't exactly been lugging around a load of guilt for these little sessions over the last three weeks.

"Mornin' lark?" She teases, leaning back to take in George Wickham's morning, unshaven, rugged afterglow. "Or did you _actually_ stay the night?"

He laughs - as pretty as his person - and circumvents her to grab a bar stool. She chuckles too before refocusing on her quest for wake-up caffeine.

"Does every Paris graduate wake up as gorgeous as you?" Her bed buddy grins up at her.

Sure, George Wickham doesn't have the height, the wealth, or the repute of her millionaire boyfriend - but, in bed, it's passion and charm that count.

And this boy toy has those in spades.

"Only for the people worth it." She pours in her milk before turning to tap his cheek.

He grins and stands up - and pulls her close.

"George! I don't think - "

"Got anything better to do?" He growls.

Her chest does somersaults. She still feels last night's tingles.

"I have to meet Darcy today," she explains with dramatic sigh. Her fingers make their course up and down, and up and down his wide, bare chest. "Say what you will of his commitment skills - the guy's loaded."

"Darcy - as in William Darcy?" Her lover pulls back.

She hopes she hasn't offended him.

"You got a problem with that?" She coos - and proceeds to start sucking his neck.

George laughs, deliciously breathlessly, and pulls back. "Caroline, wait - you mean to say - this stuck-up boyfriend who refuses to live with you - with a smarty-pants daughter - is William Darcy?"

"Does it matter?" It's her turn to step away, a little annoyed now.

"No, no - I mean." George grins. He quickly walks over and lands two hands on her shoulders. "I just never expected people to be so open about their girlfriends when they're still married."

"They're _what?"_ It's her turn to screech, and she's thankful for the dampening arms containing her. "You mean Darcy is - how did you - "

"I worked with his wife before." George shrugged. "As far as I know, they haven't actually divorced."

The lies, the betrayal - each emotion crashes over her like an overwhelming wave the first time one tries to surf.

"The daughter - "

"Yeah, it's the ex-wife's," George answers. "I'm sorry, Caroline, When you said you had a boyfriend, I didn't think it would've been - "

"She is _so dead_."

They glare at each other silently for a handful of minutes.

Then, she decides it.

"No divorce means he's not paying alimony - so that's a plus," she speaks harshly, firmly. "We can cut her off and make him remarry, right?"

George caresses her nose with the tip of his. "I think you got the perfect accomplice, as it is."

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you to everyone who is sticking with this despite the lack of realism in some parts. I hope you get to enjoy this story as a fun, casual read!_ _Lizzie finally reappears in the next chapter. I hope her older version will prove less annoying than her chapter-3 embodiment. Hehe._

 _In other news, I am almost ready to publish the edited versions of "Switched" and "Armed Robbery." I am only struggling with the part of converting my MS Word files to Kindle-compatible files. I would appreciate any suggestions or help! Thank you all for sharing my love of Austen :) I hope you enjoyed this chapter, despite the amount of Caroline in it._


	5. Chapter 5

It's not that she doesn't want her dad to be happy. He's a great dad. He _should_ be happy.

The bigger problem here is that all the ladies lining up - all wrestling each other to be her stepmom - are all the same type as Caroline Bingley.

And she doesn't like that - like, at all.

"She's inside," Daddy says from the hall.

Lili rolls her eyes and braces for what's to come.

She's heard the suggestion before, of course. All the yucky women who want to date Dad try it.

"Oh, it's okay. She's lovely! I would _love_ to babysit her" - they all say. Sometimes, they're even the ones suggesting it.

Of course, each time, Lili just gives them hell.

She really can't help the smirk when Uncle Charlie's sister predictably parades into the room.

"Hey, Caroline," she greets, so sweetly.

"Hi, Lili, darling," the woman replies.

It's really, _really_ hard to keep smiling and look sincere about it.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Dad asks by the door. Being the only child has its perks - including a mega bedroom in a mega mansion. Even while he's talking, Dad already feels too far away to help his latest arm candy.

"We're gonna have _so much fun,_ Dad."

Dad grins. He looks like he knows she'll mess with Caroline - but he also looks like he doesn't care too much.

"I'll be back in five hours, tops."

"Okay, Dad."

"No gum in the hair, okay?"

"Okay."

He narrows his eyes. "And no laxatives - or tasers."

It's very satisfying to see Caroline Bingey's eyes look scared for real.

"I'll be a perfect angel, Dad."

"You promise?"

"Absolutely."

Dad says goodbye to Caroline like he does any other babysitter - no kisses, no hugs, no eye contact.

Again, it's very satisfying. Most of the dumb blondes Dad invites over don't know when it's coming.

The moment he shuts the door, Lili drops her grin, whirls around in her reading chair, and glares at Caroline.

The surprising thing is - she's glaring right back at her.

It looks like this one drops the act pretty quickly.

"My dad's gonna break up with you, you know," Lili spits out, right away.

Caroline, somehow, doesn't stop smirking. "No, he won't."

"Uh huh." Lili crosses her arms firmly, intimidatingly. "I know him more than you do."

"Sure, you do, kid."

Most of the time, Dad's dates only last this long.

It's a wonder this one's not crying yet.

Lili sighs, dramatically, "It's sad that you don't know what's coming at you."

"I think I know what's happening."

"Well, you don't sound like it."

"What's happening is that your dad is using me - to babysit you."

For a moment, it's hard to come up with a comeback.

Lili huffs.

"Listen, kid, I know you don't like me - okay? And who cares if your dad likes me. What matters now is that _I_ like _him_ \- and I'm pretty willing to do whatever it takes to make you accept me."

It feels weird to hear one of Dad's _bimbos_ talking so frankly.

She doesn't expect what Caroline blurts out next.

"I know what you want."

"Sure you do."

"You want a mom."

"And it's not gonna be you, ma'am."

"You want _your_ mom."

"Uh huh."

"And I know where she is."

"Sure, the assump - " Lili stops. Then she zooms in on smirking, leaning, all-pink Caroline Bingley. It's funny how oversized the woman looks in the cozy, girly room. "What do you mean?"

"Your mom's still alive - and, if you're willing, I'm going to take you to see her."

Usually, when one of Dad's _temporary_ girlfriends claims things that are in direct opposite of what Dad says, it's pretty easy to dismiss them.

But there's a weird feeling in Lili's gut - like she _knows_ something all these years - like this unlikely woman is actually _agreeing_ with her - that stops her from flipping the information off this time.

"How did you - "

"Her name is Elizabeth Bennet. She lives in New York."

It's awkward to feel so reliant on someone so unlikeable. She's always known Mom's name was Elizabeth - Lizzie, even - but _Bennet_ is completely new information.

"And you're gonna take me to _New York_ to see her?" She tests the waters, waits it out.

Caroline's smirk grows even deeper. "I have money of my own, you know."

Lili scoffs. She feels nervous. She doesn't like that she feels nervous.

But this is some life-changing stuff here.

"And what's in it for you?" She throws at the scheming woman leaning against her bookcase.

"Your approval - that I date your father. Or - I mean - just lack of intervention against it."

Lili thinks. "You won't lie to him - or pretend that I like you."

"By the end of all this, _darling,_ you _will_ like me, after all."

It's annoying that Caroline doesn't even try to not be annoying.

For a few seconds, Lili fumes quietly. She fumes at Dad, for lying to her all these years about Mom. She fumes at Caroline, for having such a powerful bargaining chip over her. She fumes at life - at the world - at the unfairness of her growing up without a mom when she could have had after all.

"Well?" Caroline's not the patient sort - that's for sure.

Lili glares one last time at her unlikely accomplice. "When do we leave?"

Long, white, manicured fingers glide into an overpriced handbag and pull out two boarding passes.

"As soon as you want, darling."

And maybe it's the adventurer that's always been in her that says, "Alright, deal."

* * *

"Once again, this is your captain Peter Danston. Have a safe flight and enjoy your journey."

The PA system shuts off with a cackle. The lights dim, even though it's an afternoon flight. Beside her, Caroline Bingley takes the last sip of her third cocktail.

Lili knows better than to question her drinking choices.

"You want a bite?" The woman asks three minutes later, after the flight attendant walks away.

"You're going to feed me?" Lili gasps - enjoying the drama for now.

Caroline shushes her instantly. They've been getting plenty of suspicious looks already - and the chaperone just tosses the chaperee an unwanted bag of free pretzels.

"Why, thank you, Miss Hannigan!"

All her theatrics don't impress the snobby lady, so it all falls into silence again.

Lili takes a moment to reflect on the note she scribbled last minute.

At least she's pretty confident Dad would forgive her. At least, she's forgiven him fast enough.

When Caroline did her big reveal this morning, it didn't take long for the facts to set in. The mom she's always wanted is alive - in New York. There have always been pictures - but never a gravestone. People mention Dad's former wife; no one mentions this wife's actual death.

 _Left -_ Lili remembers - 'left' is the word everyone used to describe her mother.

It's a good thing Dad's taught her to pack so efficiently.

"You stay here," Caroline barks - before wandering down the business class aisle.

Lili tries to be good - really does. She busies herself with the inflight magazine. She fiddles with the music. Her smart phone - thanks to pretty indulgent parent controls - occupies her for another half hour.

But soon - she can't help noticing.

"Do you think she'll sign them?" Caroline's talking somewhere - a few rows back.

"They have been estranged for years. There should be no objection."

Lili peeks. The guy talking is round and bald. His sweat runs all over the files he's holding.

"With the generous offer you've written in, Miss Bingley, Miss Bennet has no reason to suspect."

Lili holds her breath - she knows the name, so well in the last three hours.

"Don't worry, peach, she'll let you have him." A blond-haired guy leans over to kiss Caroline on the cheek.

Lili flinches.

"What do we give her?" Caroline is talking again.

"Nothing, ma'am," says fat guy. "We have a right to assume she would not ask for much - if she hasn't all these years."

"No alimony?"

"Nothing - not a cent."

When Zach's uncle and aunt got divorced - they said something about alimony too.

Lili gasps - and shoves her hands over her betraying mouth.

"He'll be loaded and all yours by the end of this," the blond guy talks.

Caroline grins. She looks mean - and scary.

"First," she says, her voice rising above the humming of the airplane engine, "let's make the wife an ex-wife."

* * *

The whole ride from the airport happens with a blurry dreamlike feeling. Caroline texts on her iPhone the whole time on the other side of the limo. Lili takes her time soaking in the view - towers and glass and bad traffic and people holding coffee cups while walking their dogs, while wearing chic clothes.

It's New York, and it's beautiful.

"Is that Time Square!" Lili squeals when they sweep past 7th Avenue. Caroline barely moves.

Behind them, the other limo follows. It contains the blond guy and the lawyer - she saw them get in.

"Here, ma'am?" The driver asks ten minutes later, when they're being honked by everyone around them for parking in front of a tall, old-fashioned building.

Lili smiles.

"Get up, kid," Caroline barks.

She didn't even have to.

"Is this where my mom - "

"Yeah."

Lili sniffs. It's real - more than it's ever, ever been before.

"I'm here for an appointment with Elizabeth Bennet," Caroline informs reception.

Lili bobs, up and down, side to side - too excited to stay on both feet.

"Eighth floor, ma'am - right this way."

The elevator dings. They enter. The elevator rises. They stand closer.

Lili blinks around a hundred times before they reach the eighth floor.

"Stay here," Caroline orders after the first door - right before she stalks into the inner office.

Lili swallows. Her hands close - then open - then close. The office is pretty - all posters and fluff and exotic rugs. It doesn't sound like all those things go together, but they do - they really, really do.

"You're here for Mom?" A girl's voice asks. Lili whirls around.

She stares - at the tween girl. Her hair is red, her eyes are grey. She looks sweet - and friendly.

"I - uhm - "

"Elizabeth's my mom." The girl smiles. "Is that yours?"

Lili turns to see where her new friend's pointing. The big office window helps.

"Ugh, no way! That's my Dad's new - " She stops - and faces the smiling, kindly girl. "Elizabeth Bennet is your - mother?"

"Yeah. She's so awesome." New girl starts swaying while she keeps her big, innocent grin. "Are you guys trying to make a new musical?"

"Why would we - " Lili blinks. Something is creeping up on her - something that feels like solving a mystery. Without thinking too much about it, she grabs the girl's hands. "Are you - like, almost twelve?"

"Yeah. Is there a - "

"Elizabeth Bennet is your mother."

"Yes."

"And your father?" Lili hopes she's not squelching those fingers too tight.

"He, uhm, he - " The girl starts to tear up. Lili lets go. "He died years ago. It's just my mom and me."

"What's your name?"

The girl sobs - then takes two seconds to recover herself. It shows that she's trying to smile. "I'm Gigi."

"And I'm Lili." The older twin steps closer, starting to realize how her life will really _never_ be the same. "I'm your twin sister. Dad's alive - in California. I betcha he'll come after me."

Gigi's eyes are big, round, and deep. It looks like she's just figured this out - too.

Lili points at Caroline Bingley. "And we have to stop that woman from tricking Mom to divorce him."

* * *

 _A/N: Sorry there's no direct Lizzie here, but at least we know what she does for a living now! I hope you like the contrast between Lili's snark and Gigi's sweetness. Thanks for reading!_


	6. Chapter 6

"Any luck?"

"Enough of it." Caroline groans.

Lili peeks up from her phone, not really enjoying her booth seat.

She knows people shouldn't be drinking so much, but at least Caroline's stopped her hawk-like staring after that third drink the blond guy fed her.

Lili waves down a waiter, asks for another milkshake, and zooms back on her phone. She shifts her shoulders, settling in.

"And?"

"According to Mom, the lady just wanted to talk." Grainy Gigi, looking timid on the pigmented screen, doesn't really offer much help.

Lili rolls her eyes. "Don't call her a lady."

"So a - woman?"

Lili scoffs. Her surprise twin sister is sweet - a little _too_ sweet, somehow.

"Did she admit to the marriage?" Blond guy says to Caroline. Both adults are so awkwardly balanced on the bar that it's surprising they aren't toppling over.

Haughty Miss Caroline shrugs. "We didn't get to it."

"How could you - "

"She calls herself Elizabeth _Bennet_." Caroline sounds _very_ confrontational. "It's not like she was wearing a wedding ring."

"Any proof that she'll _want_ to sign the papers?"

"If _he_ does! I mean - you should have seen the look on his daughter's face when I told her - "

For a moment, Caroline chokes up. Lili frowns.

"Dad and Mom are still _married_?" Her earphones buzz. She looks down. Her sister - her _baby_ sister, because there's no way this nervous little wonder is older - is gazing into her phone cam with wide-eyed wonder.

Lili grins. "Great, right?"

"He's - Dad is - " Gigi stutters, heaving heavy breaths between her words.

"I left him a note." Lili shrugs. "I didn't realize when I left that Caroline was here with, like, evil motives."

"She's like an evil stepmother!"

"Yeah."

Loud whispers - the kind that people use when they're pretending to speak secrets on stage - start to float over from the bar.

"Need proof?" asks Caroline's plot partner.

"Of what?"

"Proof of unfaithfulness - adultery. He'll drop her like a pancake."

Lili feels her heart speeding up. The evil stepmother has an even eviler sidekick.

"No one resists me." The blond man grins. He looks like a maniac. "Twenty photos and he'll sign without alimony - and fight her to the death over the arrangement."

"Photos - "

"Nude ones, maybe? I mean - if that's what you like."

The grown-ups start making out, and Lili's suddenly more glued to her seat than she ever was.

Blurry sounds hit her ears - and it's like the phone in her hands grows cold too.

"Lili! Did they really say - "

Lili stares back at her screen - and at the image of her worried sister.

She takes a deep, long breath and sighs it right back out.

"Yeah. I think so."

* * *

"But how are we going to stop them?" Gigi laments. It's hard to keep her voice down in the middle of the night. Earphones help with the sounds coming _from_ her sister, but she doesn't exactly own a sensitive-enough microphone for the words going _in_ to her iPad.

She tries to get semi-comfortable on the edge of her bathtub. Thank God Mom's room is a very thick wall away.

"They're not _that_ smart, you know. They don't even know I know Dad and Mom are still married." Despite her own _excellent_ Internet connection, there's only so much she can do over her sister's poor hotel bandwidth.

"But how's that going to help us?"

"If they let their guard down before - they'll do it again," Lili declares. Her confidence is obvious - bad connection and all.

Gigi sighs. It's not like she's never done anything behind Mom's back. Mom will _never_ know about the henna from camp last year - or that she and her friends plan to go to Las Vegas, someday.

It's just never been something _this_ big.

"Can't I just - tell Mom about it?" Gigi bargains. When she first acknowledged that Lili _had_ to be her sister - she's didn't really realize she was agreeing to participate in this mastermind-y thing. It's honestly unnerving. "Mom always listens."

"But she left Dad for a reason - and we can't really bank on her being on our side until we figure out why."

Gigi frowns. She still doesn't fully believe that part. Her perfect parents wouldn't really have _wanted_ to be apart, would they?

"Mom doesn't hate Dad, you know," she tells her new FaceTime buddy.

"And I don't think he hates her. He hasn't really - yeah."

"So it's okay to tell Mom."

Lili stops for a moment. Then she puts her hands on her hips like she's angry. "Do you want her to feel like she's in danger?"

Gigi gulps. "Is she?"

"Not if we can save her."

"Oh."

She takes the iPad with her when she starts pacing her very pink bathroom.

Mom's in danger. That lady at the office today wants to hurt her by taking bad pictures of her. Lili is her sister. Lili won't let them hurt Mom.

Gigi Bennet stops moving back and forth a minute later, when she's finally made up her mind. She tries her best to stay calm - like Aunt Jane says she has to when a new patient is wheeled in.

Gigi zooms in on her iPad. "Okay, let's save her."

* * *

"Mom, Mom!" She runs to catch up with the long steps Mom always takes. She hopes all the panting is worth it. "They said this way."

Mom quirks a brow. She always knows when something's up.

"Your school teacher wants to meet me by the _pool_?" She laughs. "Seriously, Gigi, you're always nice at school. I can't imagine why they wanted this meeting to start with."

"Well, yeah." Gigi giggles. It's fake. She knows and _feels_ fake. "It's just that they, uhm, I - well, they, uhm - "

She gulps. She's nervous, and it's all Lili's fault.

"Hey, did Miss Bingley scare you?" Mom's leans down to look her in the eye. Gigi sniffs. "Let me know who I'm meeting here, and why."

Gigi blinks. It's hard to think up lies. This is why she told Macy Williams she would never join one of their schemes again.

"Mom, it's a trap." She settles for a half-truth, hands clasping her mother's arms. "Miss Bingley isn't a good person."

"Teachers never aren't, are they?"

"No."

For some reason, tears start to well up in Gigi's very dry eyes.

"Hey, girl - what's wrong?"

"Miss Bingley."

"She can't be that bad - can she?"

"She is."

"What do you mean?"

"She wants to hurt you."

"By getting me to a fancy hotel bar? I know you're not one for the gossip mill, dear."

"She's - not a teacher."

"What do you mean? You don't even know - "

"Because my sister Lili said so."

The world stops.

Mom freezes.

Under the thousand-light chandelier of the fancy Manhattan hotel, Lizzie Bennet grips her daughter's arms - and stays _completely_ still.

"Mom?"

" _Who_ said so?"

"Lili." Gigi hangs her head. The gig is up. "My sister."

For another whole minute, Mom just stares at her with an open mouth. Seriously, _Mom_ should know who Lili is - right?

"Mom, look!" Gigi urges when Caroline Bingley starts moving. Mom turns slowly, like she's still in a daze. Around the corner, on the posh bar top - a very well-dressed Caroline Bingley twists a vial open - not very discreetly - and dumps the contents into the drink beside her.

Now, Mom gasps.

"I'm sorry for lying." Gigi catches her. Good thing Mom didn't collapse completely. "It's just that Lili said - "

"Lili - " Mom gasps again.

"Yeah."

Gigi dutifully supports her mother. It helps that she's always had plenty of patience.

A moment later, Mom finally stands upright.

Her strong hands grip Gigi's shoulders.

"You've met Lili."

Gigi nods.

"Where?"

"Here - in New York."

"Here? How did she - "

"She flew here, with Caroline."

"With _Caroline?"_

"Yeah, she's the one that warned me about - "

"About Caroline Bingley's scheme."

Gigi nods vigorously.

Mom takes in her every word with wide eyes and a tight grip.

"Mom?" The voice starts behind Gigi. Footsteps approach.

Mom looks up - above her head - and breathes in a quick, sharp breath.

* * *

It wasn't easy to watch Gigi struggle. The guilt on her face was obvious from the moment she dragged Mom into the hotel lobby.

It was, on the other hand, _amazing_ to finally see Mom dressed up like this - sleek, brunette, beautiful. It lets her own image in the mirror all these years make so much more sense. Something in her is sure - 100% sure - that this theatre producer lady has something to do with her personality too.

"Yeah, she's the one that warned me about - "

"About Caroline Bingley's scheme." Mom is smart. Mom figures things out right away. Even though it's the-Lili-and-Gigi plot that she uncovers - Lili still feels proud.

Gigi nods, giving away everything. It's both frustrating and adorable to have a sister this naive.

Mom looks incredulous - so Lili steps in.

"Mom?" She calls.

Then she walks - very slowly, very nervously - out from under the humongous grand staircase and towards the two family members she wishes she's always known.

Mom gasps. She's surprised. Gigi hasn't given away _all_ their secrets.

"Lili?" Her eyes are wide - shocked. Lili tugs self-consciously at her outfit. It's not like she brought that many in her packing frenzy.

"Mom, I can explain."

"Lili!" Mom exclaims, pulls Gigi along, and welcomes Lili into a big, warm, tight group hug.

Gigi giggles. Lili sniffs.

"Lili," Mom echoes, hand caressing her long lost daughter's hair. It's surreal - being here, being this - being a daughter - having a _mom_.

"Mom," she calls with a cracking, fragile voice. Then she throws her arms around the two girls. It's so, so, _so_ gratifying to feel them hugging her back.

"Lili - you are - you're - you're almost _twelve_ now, right? You - you look amazing. You are - " Mom rests her hands on Lili's face - he shoulders - her arms. Mom swallows. "How did you even find me?"

"Caroline Bingley." Lili's still sniffing. It feels childish, but she can't help it.

"She brought you here?"

"To separate you and Dad."

"Me and Wi - _your dad_?"

"Yes." Lili's sleeves fly up to wipe away some very annoying tears.

"He's here?" There's a frenzied sound in Mom's voice. It's like the sound that's _always_ in Caroline Bingley's voice.

"No - I don't - know." Lili crumbles - and leans in for another hug.

Mom welcomes her. Every pat on her back soothes her excitement.

"Why did you come with Miss Bingley?" Mom asks, after the large clock strikes.

"She said she - would find you." Lili looks up. Every hope in her heart tries to overflow and drown her. Her mother won't reject her - would she?

"And where are you staying?"

"With - with her."

Mom nods. She looks wise. The way she curls her lips inwards when she's thinking looks exactly like Dad's way. Mom doesn't seem to care that her newfound daughter hasn't really answered all her questions in full.

"Do you have a room key?"

Lili frowns, confused. "I - well, yeah. I mean - yes."

Mom nods. "Get your bags, hon. You're coming home with us."

* * *

 _A/N: It's nothing big, but I hope it was a chapter that turned things the right direction! Happy new year :)_


	7. Chapter 7

He arrives in JFK, on the most expensive domestic flight of his life, a frazzled mess. He drags his rocky luggage - one wheel sacrificed to TSA's rugged handling back in Cali - down the vast, off-white floor. The PA system lady talks about the nth flight to be delayed. People around him groan. He groans too.

Less than twenty-four hours ago, his daughter - not even a teen - ran away, leaving only the briefest note in the world.

It's not as fun when the person in the movie is you.

"Taxi, sir? Taxi!" The sounds start as soon as he passes through the large, glass, automatic door. He looks around, feeling loss.

Yes, Lili mentioned New York.

She just didn't mention anything else.

He can hit his usual hotel - let familiarity be his guide. It's unlikely that Lili would be adventurous enough to try a place she's never been.

It's Caroline Bingley that's the toss-up.

"Sir?" The taxi line is neglected this time of night. In his gut, Darcy wants to get an Uber - let tech be his friend.

Too bad he doesn't really know what to type into the destination bar.

He tumbles into the taxi, not even bothering to deposit his mini carry-on in the trunk. At least the driver doesn't complain.

"Where?" The front seat hollers.

Darcy groans. He doesn't want to waste time - but it's almost as if he doesn't have a choice not to.

His phone vibrates in his hand - Apple's most generic ring tone picks up. A glance tells him it's an unknown number. He doesn't pick up unknown numbers.

Then the ringing stops.

And he's lost again.

"Sir?" There's a stronger shade of impatience in the driver's voice now.

Darcy looks up. "I - uhm, Manhattan."

"Where there."

"I - " He looks out the window. City lights render the stars dim. His hopes of finding Lili alive and well seem to be fluttering as dangerously as the softest of the lights in the sky. "Time Square. Anywhere there."

The driver nods and takes off. It doesn't take long to be out of the airport's artistic curve.

Darcy grips his phone tighter - his last connection to his regular home.

Then, it lights up again. This time - with a text.

He sits up straighter.

 _'Lili's with me. She's okay. Come over to see her.'_

As ransom notes go, it's not the most threatening.

Darcy feels his heart rate pick up. His fingers run on autopilot as he types his reply - asking for a location.

The reply comes as _'You forgot, didn't you?'_ before it relates the exact address.

Darcy shoves his phone in the driver's face - and waits for the next sharp turn.

* * *

The sudden, thorough, aggressive banging makes Lizzie jump. The two girls giggle. She smiles.

"Open up! Where's my daughter?" The voice through the door is frantic - desperate. Lizzie gulps. The rush of nostalgia that his voice brings along is inevitable - no matter his mood. "Open up!"

Lizzie holds up a finger - signaling a break from their plush animal party. The girls giggle and nod. There's a particular glint in Lili's eyes. The girl knows that voice too.

"Coming!" She hollers. The banging stops for three seconds, then it resumes again.

Lizzie weaves her way across and around eclectic, artsy furniture. Over the years, life has expanded - memorabilia has added up. Still, they've stayed here. Jane moved away. Lizzie and Gigi - they stayed here. Gigi grows up; they stay here. Gigi gets sick; they stay here. Gigi gets well again; they stay here.

There's something comforting about an anchor to a former life - a small piece of life that somehow doesn't change despite the winds and waves of reality.

"I said I'm coming!" She throws the door open - all braced for the inevitable sight of her ex-husband.

And sure enough - it's him.

And also sure enough - she's _not_ ready at all.

"Lizzie?" He says, still squinting, still panting. The short, straight hairdo must be throwing him off. "Lizzie? It's - it's you."

"Yes."

He's sweaty, and he's lost. He looks like he hasn't taken a shower in the last 48 hours. He's grimy and messy and -

Well, he's incredibly sexy too.

"Come in," she manages - and turns to leave him space.

He walks in obediently, openly looking around her living space. As New York apartments go, she lives pretty spaciously. Still, she knows the decor isn't his type. He likes clean, sleek, and modern. This place is warm, old-fashioned, and ruffled to its last square inch.

"You've got a nice place," he says, turning around to face her.

She's caught by surprise - like that first night - that very fateful first night.

She clears her throat. "Uhm, thanks. I - it's where Jane and I used to stay."

"Jane - of course." He face falls a little, like he's embarrassed. Her skin starts to tingle at the onslaught of forgotten moments, now remembered. She still knows, in the deeper, unused recesses of her mind - how he laughs, how he eats, how he talks, how he sleeps, how he acts when they're in be -

"Dad?" Lili turns around the corner. "Daddy, you're here!"

"Lili!" Darcy runs to scoop up his daughter - their daughter. The two souls share a happy, spinning hug by way of reunion. Lizzie feels warm - and a little bit jealous.

"What were you thinking running away like that?" Darcy questions the moment he puts Lili down. "I was so worried."

"Sorry, Dad. I - I didn't think it through," Lili confesses.

"What would profess you to believe Caroline Bingley?" Darcy stands tall again. He runs a hand through his hair. Lizzie's heart does its third somersault ever since he's arrived at her doorstep. "I thought you hated her."

"Well, I - I do." Lili shrugs, hands behind her. The pose reminds Lizzie of her own younger self. "It's just that she - "

"She what?"

"She told me she would bring me here - and she really did."

"So? Why?"

Lili looks up at her father. Her eyes are big, jumpy. It's obvious she's calculating - weighing the odds.

Then she talks. "She promised she would bring me to Mom."

For a moment, the room falls completely still. Softly, silently, tears creep their way up from Lizzie's throat to her eyes. Her daughter - a bargaining chip, a consolation prize in the heat of a lovers' quarrel, a name on an ill-advised legal document - has travelled cross-country with a person she hates - just to see her.

"Lili," she whispers.

Lili turns. She's dressed in pajamas now - still Gigi's size despite different genetic makeup.

"Mom," she echoes.

"Lili." It's Lizzie's turn to sweep up her daughter - to hold her close and never let go.

Beside her, Darcy is watching - Darcy is waiting. For a moment, Lizzie doesn't care.

Then she suddenly has to.

Because, suddenly, it's Gigi's turn.

"Dad?" She ventures. She's always been soft-spoken - friendly in a cotton candy sort of way. She walks closer - gradually approaching where her mom, sister, and dad are now standing. "Dad?"

Darcy chokes up.

Gigi looks scared.

Then, five heartbeats later, Darcy opens his arms, his tear ducts, his chest. His arms beckon. His daughter follows.

"Gigi!"

"Dad!"

Around them, the clocks, the posters, the plush toys, and the curtains keep existing the way they've always had.

Inside of them - inside four broken, lost souls - Lizzie's quick to realize that things would never be the same again.

* * *

"She really said that?"

"The other guy did - the guy who's, like, her sidekick, I think. But she totally agreed, Dad. It's her fault too," Lili pleads.

Lizzie walks out of the kitchen with all four requested drinks - iced tea for the girls, tea for herself, and black coffee for Darcy.

It's been a while since she last served coffee that way.

The sight is cozy when she approaches the others. Lili is on Darcy's lap. Gigi sits on the carpet, at his feet, hero-worship still glistening in her young eyes.

Lizzie sighs - unsuccessfully trying to dissipate the confusion in her mind - and closes the last two yards to her now very over-populated couch.

"Stay hydrated?"

The two girls instantly look her way, look at the drinks on her tray, and dash for the drinks on her tray. They grab a glass each in perfect sync - as if they've been fighting over food their entire lives.

Lizzie clears her throat. It's too bad her thoughts don't shut up.

"Lizzie." Darcy looks up at her. It still warms her up - the way he says her name. His eyes look sad, offended. "Did you hear - "

"Yeah." She bends down to slide the tray on the coffee table. She nudges a few magazines to make room before she stands back up with his coffee in hand. "Lili told me - and Gigi correlated what she said."

"I mean - _nude photos_." Darcy looks appalled. It's a little satisfying to see him so indignant and protective. "I know Caroline's an obnoxious flirt, but I didn't think she would - "

"She wants to hurt Mom!" Lili announces. Gigi, ever sweet and prim and proper, nods vigorously beside her sister.

"I know." Darcy sighs. He takes the coffee wordlessly - and downs half the cup in one go.

Lizzie narrows her eyes.

"How long have you been dating her, Will?" She asks. He doesn't look up.

"Dad, she's new, right? Your last girlfriend lasted long - "

"Lili!" Darcy groans. He drinks the rest of his coffee before placing the emptied Andrew-Lloyd-Webber-themed mug back on the tray. He doesn't look happy. Lizzie wonders if the source of his anger is either of the girls or she.

The three female family members wait patiently for the only man present to form his words.

"She - she's Charles' sister," Darcy offers, a minute later. He sighs. His eyes look dark and tired. "I didn't think she would be that different from him."

"Will, I - "

"She kidnapped me, Dad!" Lili ups the drama. "Can you _imagine_ who could have done that?"

"I thought you wanted to come?" Gigi asks.

"Well, I - she - "

"You wanted to come to New York, right?"

"Well, I - " Lili groans, tongue-tied. Darcy is too engrossed by the empty coffee mug to budge.

Suddenly, the tension rolls off Lizzie. The comedy of the two sisters - same in birth, separate in temperament - lends a lightness to life that she's never really realized she wanted before. They're funny - the girls. One is too much like her and the other too much like Jane for the two to ever be alike. But, still, somehow, they go together - sweet versus witty, spirited versus gentle.

Was it ever right to have separated them the way they did?

The doorbell rings - long and precise. The touch is a woman's. The hour is strange.

Lizzie glances Darcy's way. Darcy shrugs. The girls are too busy arguing with each other to even notice the sound.

"It's probably one of my writers." Lizzie shrugs.

Darcy nods as if he agrees. She nods back before getting the door.

* * *

"Excuse me!"

Darcy starts at the voice. He knows it. He's angry that he knows it.

"Miss Bingley, right?" Lizzie's voice is clear, direct - the ultimate no-nonsense theatre producer. Caroline's taller, so the top of her over-coiffed head peeks up above the back of Lizzie's head. Darcy feels both daughters drawing closer.

"Excuse me, _Miss Bennet -_ " Caroline chuckles viciously. She sounds wild, deranged. Darcy feels disgusted at having gone on _a_ date with her at all. "It seems that I have misplaced my boyfriend at your apartment."

"My dad is not your boyfriend!" Lili shoots up. She marches, head first, towards the door. The rage in her tone is something Darcy's hearing for the very first time in the little girl's entire life. Lizzie turns to make way for her fuming child. "He's here to see _me_ \- not _you_."

Lili stomps her foot. Darcy realizes he needs to address that action later.

"Well, hello, _darling_." Caroline levels her gaze at Lili. It's both awkward and hilarious - the tall blonde with the tiny brunette. "Care to bring your dad with us?"

"I'm not going home with _you_!" Lili crosses her arms. She's a veritable diva. Darcy feels Gigi leaning closer against him. The similarity to Georgiana's younger years is heart-rending.

Caroline scoffs. Even with his partial view, Darcy feels as if he's right beside the scene.

"And so you'll stay on the streets?"

"No," Lili insists. She wraps her hands around Lizzie's waist. "I'm staying here - with my _mom_."

Caroline sputters. If this weren't his own life, Darcy would have found the whole thing extremely comedic.

He stands up then, starting to realize his best friend's crazy sister wasn't about to leave without catching a glimpse of him.

"Daddy?" Gigi's eyes are large - compelling.

Darcy offers a weak smile. "I'll be back."

"Really?"

"Yes." Darcy nods.

Gigi nods back, and Darcy makes his way towards Caroline Bingley and Lili Darcy's stand-off.

"Darcy, Will - _darling_!" Caroline exclaims when he approaches. She tries to enter the apartment. Lizzie blocks her with her body.

Lizzie is sexy.

Darcy gulps.

"Caroline."

"Shall we go, dear? Surely, this - this _trash bin_ of a place isn't worth your - "

"How did you find me?" Darcy demands. He tries to keep his voice level, tries to be calm and in control.

"I - I - well, of course, I - "

"You tracked me, didn't you?"

Darcy tries not to be distracted by Lizzie's gasp and knowing gaze.

He strips his wrist of the expensive, supposedly-limited-edition Rolex she'd generously given him on their second date.

"You're psychotic, Caroline." He tosses the watch on her collar. It lands on her open palms.

"You're a tool, William Darcy."

"Great." He sighs. He reaches past Lizzie to grab the doorknob. "Then leave me - see you never."

He feels justifiably relieved when the blonde curls tumble down the stairs and whirl out the building with an angry, slammed door.

* * *

 _A/N: Goodbye Caroline! Let the fluff-fest begin :)_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: So, everything is slow-burn fluff from this point forward. We will get a happy ending, but my torturous muses have decided to go SUPER slow despite it being clear that these two have the hots for each other. I have never lived with tween girls in my life and realize that a lot of Lili and Gigi's behavior over the next few chapters might prove unrealistic. Please forgive me and just stay for the toothache-inducing fluff. Thanks!_

* * *

"Oh, I want the pink one!"

"But _I_ want the pink one!"

"But there's only one pink one."

"Well, _I_ said I wanted it first."

"But I've _always_ used the pink one, Lili. It's not fair that you get it now."

"So now it's my turn."

"No, it's not."

"It's just a cup!" Lizzie lifts the tray of drinks as high above her head as she can. The hem of her bathrobe rides up to her knees. "You can take turns and share them."

"But, Mom, Lili already had the pink one last night."

"But you've been using the pink one for _years_!"

The sibling rivalry - innocent but somehow still intense - escalates to two girls climbing the kitchen counter. Shouldn't they have outgrown these things already?

"Lili, get down! You'll hurt yourself!"

"Mom, if I let Lili use it, can I stay up until 1?"

"No, Gigi - Lili, get down. You guys - girls, just stop it - "

"Yes." Will and his big, deep, manly voice appears. He takes the tray, without another word, and lifts it high above _his_ head.

"Daddy!" Lili protests.

"That's too high, Dad. It'll hurt you," Gigi coaxes.

Lizzie smiles. It's been a rambunctious four days - with an even more exciting weekend in sight. The girls, having found each other, absolutely refused to be parted - and so Lizzie's artsy apartment has been playing daycare for almost a hundred hours straight.

"Fighting means no one gets it, remember?" Will announces, and the girls' protests die down.

Lizzie smiles. Somehow, somewhere, sometime in the last ten years - William Darcy the stubborn, uptight, egomaniacal CEO has molted into William Darcy the wise, authoritative, loving father.

And this Will - with the grey streaks and all - is a dozen times more attractive than the one she knew a decade ago.

"Mommy, can you change this one?" Will passes the coveted pink cup to her. Lizzie compliantly swaps it for the lime green one.

The girls, with Dad at the helm, obediently take one each of the unwanted cups and wander off to the breakfast table. Their smiles make it seem as if they weren't fighting at all.

"I don't know how you do it." Lizzie smiles too as she pours her and Will a glass each.

Will smiles back. There are a few creases on his face - handsome creases.

"You sure you're still okay with the two of them staying here?"

Lizzie sets down the cups. "They're happy. It's fine."

"You're not pulling your hair out yet?"

Lizzie laughs. "Not just yet. At least I get to bring them to work. You're the one telecommuting during the day and _actually_ commuting here every night."

Will smiles. Her kitchen feels small with him in here. With her never really having been here for Jane's courtship phase with Charlie, having a man in the confines of this apartment feels strange, suffocating, and warm all at the same time.

"Uber helps." Will shrugs.

"I guess." Lizzie looks down at the last few drops on her glass. It's always a joy making lemonade in the city. It's almost as if it's a taste - an allusion to her California years.

"Is something wrong?" Will reaches over to put a hand over hers. She tries hard not to betray the jolt of electricity in his fingertips.

"It's just - I - it's - " It's hard to put her feelings into words. It's hard to say - or, at least, to admit - that she _likes_ having him here, that she feels that they are an actual, genuine family when all four of them are present. It's hard to be willing to describe the anticipation in her belly whenever she and the girls have been back for an hour - and she knows he'll be ringing the door bell any minute.

"Yeah?" His fingers curl around hers.

"I - uhm - it's, uhm - " She swallows hollowly. He looks worried. It's both nice and guilt-inducing to know that she makes him worry. "Would you - like a key?"

Will sits back, though his hands stays on hers.

She can tell by the look in his eyes that he's deciding whether or not she means it.

"I don't know how long I'll - "

"Yeah, yes - I know. You don't know how long you guys are staying here." She looks down, suddenly feeling shy.

"Do you - want us - to stay?"

Suddenly, the tentativeness is in his voice as much as it is in her loud, thumping heart.

It didn't take long to see that Lili _absolutely insisted_ on staying here as long as she was in New York. Lili's dad was the bigger toss up.

"At least while you're still in the area?" She looks up with her truce. He's brooding now - like the way he used to when he was 30 and she was barely 25. "I mean, if you want to. I know the commute is still bad, because it's still Manhattan. There's no easy way to get around this part of town. Where you're staying right now is - "

"Do you have an extra room?" He beats her to it.

Behind him, the girls have long finished their drinks and are now preoccupied with Gigi's large birthday doll house.

"I have - a couch," Lizzie offers, still wondering with every passing second if she was doing the right thing.

Will smiles - the ultimate weapon - squeezes her hand, and agrees.

"I'll bring my luggage later tonight."

"Alright."

* * *

"That was amazing!"

"When she held the music box - and the people started dancing - "

"Dimitri is _so dreamy_."

"And when she kissed him - on the lips!"

"And Derek is _so nice_ at the stage door."

"I got a selfie with Christy!"

"The backdrops changed every five minutes."

"I hope the music box comes soon."

"Mom will make sure she brings it to school for us."

"Spring break is almost over."

"Did you like this one more or _Aladdin_?"

"Or _School of Rock_!"

"But _Anastasia_ is my _favorite_!"

In the backseat, the girls exchange their very vivid notes regarding the very purple Broadway show they just caught. He's lucky he brought enough cash for the haul of memorabilia that will now inevitably populate Lizzie's apartment.

Darcy grins.

"Enjoyed the show?" Lizzie smiles from the driver's seat.

Darcy smiles back. "Those are tickets well bought, it seems."

"At least they enjoyed it more than the dentist."

And that has Darcy grimacing.

Somehow, Lili learned the hard way that eating two pounds of M&M's (her very proud spoils from a day in Time Square) in one sitting was not a good idea.

"We should watch the movie tonight!" Lili, toothache gone, suggests from her seat.

Lizzie laughs. "One round of Romanovs not enough, dear?"

"I want to watch the movie too, Mom," Gigi chimes in.

Now it's Darcy's turn to laugh. How did he ever think being the outnumbered guy was a good idea?

The girls make good on their promise, though, and the original Fox movie starts playing from the sole TV set before he and Lizzie can even get their jackets off.

"Ready for another round of con-men-turned-romantic-interest?" Lizzie smiles when she sweeps into the kitchen ten minutes later, in the predictably fluffiest bathrobe on the planet.

"I think the meet cute's over." He smiles over his coffee. Caffeine has never really worked against him. "You missed the best part."

"When the leading man lies to the leading lady about his intentions?" She leans on the counter - her face tantalizing close to his.

He tries not to gulp too obviously. "For the record, I never lied to you."

She smiles softly, like every heroine in every rom-com when she's starting to fall for the guy. He could swear the edges of his screen have started to blur.

"Do you regret coming?"

"To New York?"

"Yeah - here, I mean - you - yeah."

He doesn't answer right away. He just looks into her eyes - drinks in her beauty.

Time has changed them both. After the urgency of their first meeting - when he dashed to her house like a madman - he's gotten the chance to get to know her again all over. Her hair has changed. Her wardrobe has morphed - and her personality, too. Somehow, beneath all that confidence and brain and guts - she's grown some compassion, some feminine and motherly gentleness.

He likes to hope she thinks he's gotten better too.

"I'm happy we came," he admits. He takes her hand. She doesn't pull back. "The girls deserve to spend time with each other."

"The girls - yeah - " She drifts off.

They don't talk - they don't disrupt the peace that they have somehow finally found fourteen years after that fateful Vegas evening.

It's as if they're different people, but somehow still the same.

"Mom, they're getting on the ship!" Lili announces from the other side of the apartment.

Lizzie smiles. They both know it's their cue.

And they join the girls without another word.

* * *

When she finally stirs, the movie's credits are long gone - and the soft, happy repeating of loop of "At the Beginning" is on its millionth iteration. Lizzie looks over the heap of limbs on her legs. The tips of brownish-red and reddish-brown locks intertwine. The last time she's seen the twins huddled this close while sleeping - they were still in a blurry ultrasound in her womb.

Lizzie sniffs, suddenly sentimental.

The couch has given her some very distinct back pains, but it's a little worth it considering the joy of dozing off as a family.

She slides off the cushions gingerly, careful not to wake the overexcited girls. The two kids obediently shuffle against the couch into even deeper sleep.

Lizzie smiles at the thought of finally having someone else to help tire Gigi out.

The sound of ceramic on marble has her turning towards the kitchen. The streams of dull light are visible all the way from the living space, and it's obvious the kitchen's currently occupied.

Lizzie sniffs again, feeling more emotional than she's ever had in years.

It's not that she hasn't thought about her long-lost husband and abandoned kid all this time. Of course she does, and of course she's missed them.

If anything, it's the fear of discovering that Will had move on that kept her in her place - stubbornly refusing to reach out.

But now he's here.

And he doesn't seem to have moved on all that much, if Lili and Lizzie's own eyes are to be trusted.

Having shuffled her robe into a more presentable angle, Lizzie takes a deep breathe and aims for the kitchen.

He doesn't seem to have been expecting her, reading from his iPad while he sips a cup of coffee. One day, he's going to die from dehydration.

But boy, is he going to die handsome.

"Hey," she calls out - soft, patient.

He looks up and smiles. "You're awake."

She laughs. "Yeah - _they_ aren't though."

Will laughs at the reference to their daughters. His crow eyes crinkle slightly - present enough to be sexy, soft enough to be young.

She takes the seat beside him. He shuts off his iPad.

"Was the day too girly for you?" She asks, suddenly forgetting her intended pretense of coming here to hunt for tea.

Will chuckles. "I guess I'll have to get used to it. I've never been more outnumbered in my life."

He takes a sip of his coffee. She suddenly finds her night robe _way too_ tight.

She remembers this feeling - remembers the irresistible pull when they first met in Vegas. She's not a rash person - he's not, either.

It really had to be magical for both of them to have acted so impulsively.

Lizzie smiles to herself at the realization that the two snoring girls in her living room were the best part of their impulsive choices.

"Lizzie," he says.

"Yeah?"

She looks at him. He slowly turns to meet her eyes.

She's surprised at the sorrow in his gaze - as if all this family time, all this shopping, all this touring haven't really satisfied his soul.

Their current seats mirror the ones they occupied in that fateful Vegas bar.

The solemnness between them couldn't be any more different.

"What's wrong?" She puts a hand on his shoulder.

His other hand wanders to press it against his skin.

"Will - "

"I'm sorry."

She shuffles. "For what?"

"Lizzie, you know that I - "

"You what?"

He looks at her then, with a solid, unwavering stare.

She's starting to wonder if all this time - when she's been thrilled and happy - he's been suffering inside.

"Lizzie, I have something to say."

"Okay."

"And it's important."

"Okay."

"But hear me out - alright?"

She nods. Fear and anticipation soar in her heart.

"Lizzie," he starts.

* * *

 _A/N: I know Anastasia Broadway has changed its cast by now, but I can't help giving a shout out to the amazing OBC and how nice they were at the stage door. Thanks for bearing with me!_


	9. Chapter 9

"But hear me out - alright?"

She nods. Fear and anticipation soar in her heart.

"Lizzie," he starts. "I - I think this is a long time coming."

"Okay?"

"To think that at 30, I thought I knew everything, I - " He trails off and makes a sound that is a little too close to a sniff to sound manly.

"Will." She takes his hand. He looks up woefully at her. "I never thought - "

"You never cheated me - and never would," he says.

She blinks a few times before she feels her own throat clogging up too.

Echoes of that final, fatal quarrel begin to resonate in her mind. She remembers the screams, the tears, the charged sexual tension. It's not like they never fought before that point.

It was just something - some special brand of foolishness - that made that one fight last for over a decade.

"Will - "

"I should have trusted you." He moves to take both her hands. She lets him. "I - I know you're trustworthy. I should never have been that controlling."

The fact that he's apologizing _now_ \- after all this frickin' time - means more to her than she's ready to admit.

"Forgive me, Lizzie." He shakes his head like he disapproves of himself. "I broke our marriage with my selfishness. I couldn't bear the thought that another man - more handsome, more charming than I ever would be - could sweep you off your feet and away from me."

"Will - "

"In the end, I - I pushed you away myself."

She sniffs, twice, before beginning to openly cry.

"Lizzie - "

"No, no - it's fine." She keeps one hand attached to him and extricates the other one to wipe her very teenage tears.

"I'm sorry if I wasn't supposed to bring that up. If it hurts you, I would be - "

"George conspired with Caroline," she concludes. "You were right, Will. He was bad news all along."

"George?" It seems to take a second for the news to sink in.

She nods - with enough vigor to convey both relief and guilt.

"Lili showed me pictures she took. She's - she's so gonna be a detective one day."

They both chuckle.

"And it was - kind of unmistakable." She wipes away another stream of tears before her hand is trapped in his again. "It was him - George Wickham - he was, is, still, now - trying to hurt us."

Will nods slowly. He looks more worried than upset - a clear indication of potentially siding with her.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"After that time, you think I would bring up _George_ with you - of all people?" She laughs through her tears, a blubbering mess.

This time, he laughs louder than she does.

"Mom, what time is it?"

The voice has her turning to see a shivering, doe-eyed Gigi Bennet - or, well, Gigi Darcy.

"Yeah?" Lizzie chuckles. She takes back her hands to clear her face for good.

Gigi frowns. "Is Dad - is Dad making you cry?"

"Oh no, darling, no." Lizzie laughs. She takes the napkin Will offers to wipe away the lingering wetness under her lashes. "We were just - talking."

She looks Will's way at the last word.

It's gratifying to have him meet her eye - readily, hopefully.

She smiles.

"Achoo!" Gigi's very noticeable sneeze draws the parents back in.

"Oh, sorry, dear, are you cold?" Lizzie slides over just as her daughter nods.

"Can I have a blanket?"

"Of course. But don't you want to go back to your bed?"

Gigi looks like she's thinking for a moment. Then she looks up.

"But Lili's here." She gestures towards the living area.

Lizzie takes a few seconds to drown in the loveliness before offering her smile.

"Alright, dear, let's get back to your sister. And your dad?" She turns at the last minute, just in time to catch Will's lingering gaze.

"I'll be fine," he assures.

She wonders, for a quick moment, if she even wants him to be fine - in this state, in her house. It's nice to feel that he needs her. It's selfish but irrefutably enjoyable to see him want to have her around.

"Okay." She chooses the higher road.

And she walks Gigi back to the living room so they can work together to relocate _both_ exhausted twins to their room.

* * *

In the precious few days he's been staying in Lizzie's place, he's come to learn - and, in some ways, appreciate - a lot of little things about this distinctly un-Californian and unglamorous home (to a big shot Broadway producer, no less).

Lizzie never organizes her mugs; it's always a surprise what you get. Lizzie sits on the floor - and has generous throw pillows to supplement this habit. Lizzie owns curtains - but it's required that they be so sheer that they never really block out any light past 6 a.m.

Darcy rubs his eyes, forcing them to wake up faster than they seem to want to. He hears muted movements, mostly through the bedroom door.

Some time after their conversation in the kitchen last night - so necessary, so short, so sweet - Lizzie promptly tucked the girls into bed. She herself retired soon after, with just a few mumbled words to spare for him.

He was so tired, so exhausted, that the drowsy part of his brain took over the yearning part entirely too quickly.

He hasn't regained consciousness until now.

He yawns and stretches, admiring the versatile nature of the living space - and how bright the place looks in the sunlight.

Downstairs, the marketplaces are already open. A thousand words - in seven different languages - are being spoken up and down the sidewalk.

New York has its frustrations, and its charms.

In a way, the place is just like his Lizzie.

"Will?" She peeks out of her half-open bedroom door, probably awake for a while now. Her robe is yellow this morning - warm, bright. "Are you gonna get that?"

He tracks her line of sight and sheepishly realizes what's _actually_ woken him up.

Even in vibrate mode, the latest phone model can be insistently attention-seeking.

He looks apologetically at his host and, well, _partner_ 's way as he takes the call. A gentle understanding fills her face.

"Alfred, yes?" He barks unhappily into his phone screen. "Why are you even awake? It's the middle of the night in - I mean - yes."

Darcy slouches, annoyed and guilty.

"Yes, I remember - I mean, I've clearly forgotten about Munich." He sighs. He runs his free hand over his face. "No, no - not kidding. You know I don't joke about work."

He feels Lizzie let the door go. He wonders if she's going back in or drawing closer.

"Yes, no - I mean." On the other end of the call, his German liaison drones on and on about how much this absence is about to cost them in fourth quarter profit. Darcy groans. "Alfred, _I know_. I'm sorry."

He stands up and starts pacing. He's frustrated - and a little defensive.

"That's why we have folks like you - right? You're supposed to be picking up the pieces when your CEO is, you know, off the grid."

Alfred won't have any of it - and continues to declare his predictions of every gloom and doom.

Darcy takes a sharp turn when there's no more space to march forward - and almost runs into Lizzie and her fluffy, sunshine garb.

He stops and blinks, and he sighs under his breath.

"Okay, I get it - tell Johnson I'm sorry too." He frowns helplessly over the fact that a low-ranking employee is nagging him - with every right to. "Yes, yes, Alfred. Take care of it. Thanks."

Darcy hangs up and tosses his phone on to the closest throw pillow like it's the plague.

He plants his hands on his hips - frowning and sighing.

"Will?"

Her voice is welcome. It's happy and warm and tender.

He looks up with a smile.

She's barely smiling - at least, her eyes aren't.

"Will." She rests her hands on his biceps. The gesture is sweet - and sexual - all at once. "Maybe it's time - "

He waits for it. His emotions start cranking up to full gear.

"Maybe it's time you get back to your life," she concludes with a quiver of her lip.

* * *

It's been a long day - longer than any of his life, he thinks.

The kids trot into Lizzie's place all smiles and giggles, as they have been doing for days now. Instead of sliding in contentedly, as he did all those other times, however - this time, he trudges in like a knowing lamb to the slaughter.

"You need a new blanket?" Lizzie asks before she ushers the girls to her room and ensuite bath. She kindly gestures to the now-orange-juice-flavored lump of fabric on the floor. He almost forgot the tiny accident right before they left for her office earlier today.

Darcy smiles, a little. "Yes, please. Sorry for the inconvenience."

She meets his eye, and her gaze lingers for a bit longer than is strictly necessary. Her smile is soft, inviting. "No problem. Really, anytime."

She disappears with the girls then, and he's left to brood all he wants, all on his own.

In his pocket, another barrage of messages do its own vibrating dance. He groans even as he fishes the block of tech out. It's only because of the rest of his life that he has to even consider leaving this - leaving this nest, this home.

He likes California. There's something appealing about the vast, flat, dry lands and how easily they're conquered and used.

But with the right people, he's starting to feel the East Coast growing on him too.

He sighs as he rolls on the couch, fingers flying over his digital keyboard.

Alfred wants this, Johnson wants that. Everett wants an answer, and Wilson does too. He lets his frustrations fuel him - and finish all the replies in record time.

He groans, collapsing against the back of the couch, when he's done.

"Don't you work fast?"

He looks up to see a mint-green robe this time - and a sweet-faced Lizzie (she doesn't look a day past 30) peeking out right above the V-neck and underneath the towel turban.

Darcy smiles. "Telecommuting has its disadvantages - and its perks."

"Perks?" She walks over and takes the seat beside him. He sees the pajamas bottoms - but can't help wondering if there's anything worn underneath the robe besides that.

The cleavage he caught sight of just now - lengthened and heightened and sexed up by motherhood - didn't exactly suggest it had any covering beyond the fluffy green fabric.

He clears his throat. "Yes - perks. There is, for example, the ability to do everything in ten minutes and not look like a madman in the office."

She smiles. She always smiles now. He wonders if his impending departure is affecting her at all, when it seems to be consuming him.

"Tell me about work," she says. There's a haziness to her voice. He hopes the girls take their time with the evening toilet tonight.

"It's - not that much different from back when we were - together." Memories - both sad and happy ones - flood his mind. "Just more - international."

"International?" She laughs. He realizes it really is a funny way to define his life.

"Yeah." He chuckles.

She leans her shoulder into the couch, facing him. He feels her so close it's as if she's leaned her shoulder _against_ him.

"You did great," she says.

"You did better."

"I've seen the photos on Lili's phone. That mansion, man - "

"Is nothing without you."

She pauses, looking both caught off guard and having perfectly anticipated his move.

He doesn't even know what he's doing.

Here she is - successful, commanding, kind. She's living in the land where her dreams can come true - _have_ come true.

Every single Playbill distributed within four blocks of where they are now bear her name, listed proudly alongside other producers older and more widely-known than her. Before you know it, she'll be the most widely-known one.

"Lizzie - "

"Want to watch a movie?" She offers.

He wonders if she's running again - hiding away from the intensity of their relationship the way she did all those years ago.

Or, did she see something he didn't see? Did she _know_ they were both too headstrong and independent, too self-righteous and too proud to even make this work beyond a few cross-country visits?

He likes to think they've grown beyond that.

She hasn't mentioned signing any divorce papers, at least. He likes the feeling that a marriage in name - and those two bubbly, lovable girls - tether them together.

"Be right back," she says when the girls call for her.

She tucks them in with generous efficiency. Both girls, having enthusiastically fawned over the string of handsome actors auditioning today at Mommy's office, doze off quickly.

"Picked one yet?" Lizzie joins him again on the couch. She's smiling, but her smile looks tight.

He wonders - he seems to be doing so much wondering about her today - if she's told the girls yet of their looming separation.

He won't keep the kids apart, of course - that's just silly.

But the country and their very different parents' very different lives might do just that.

"Or would you rather skip it?" Lizzie asks.

Darcy looks at her desperately, searching vainly for some kind of permission in her demeanor to do something else instead tonight - something binding, something intimate - something that might result in another pair of pretty twins.

"I'm picking then," she announces.

"Sure," he dumbly replies.

By the time the credits roll, she's asleep against his chest - and he leaves a longing, tender kiss on her crown.

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks for the overwhelming support! I know we need a wee little bit of angst to keep things interesting, right? They'll warm up to each other fully, soon enough :)_


	10. Chapter 10

"And where are we going?" Lizzie - in a makeshift blindfold that probably matches his - grips his hand as they move forward gingerly, each guided by a jumping, squealing Darcy-Bennet twin.

"You'll see, Mom. You'll see!" It's clearly Lili who's spearheading this entire event. One day, that girl's going to be president.

"Because it's our last night with each other," on Darcy's side, it's Gigi speaking. Her voice flickers a little. It's too bad he can't see her face to be sure.

Instead, Darcy moves his hand to her shoulder - and lets his daughter guide him that way instead.

"How much longer is - "

"Almost there, Mom. You're so impatient."

Both Darcy and Lizzie chuckle. When the talk of having something special tonight had come up this morning, it was the girls who started parenting them.

"Don't plan anything! We've already got it!" Both young ladies declared instantly. "We just need - a credit card."

Darcy, having decided not to work for a single minute out of this precious, last day - has been sitting pretty ever since. The only time he mattered, really, was when the girls gave him his 'makeover.'

They made him change into a suit and put strange substances into his hair before blindfolding him.

The Uber didn't take too long, so they have to be close to Lizzie's place.

But it's still a fact that he's been blindfolded ever since.

"Will."

"Right here." He clasps Lizzie's hand more tightly. Her fingers are cold, and she's shaking slightly. "Are you nervous?"

Her stilted chuckle says it all. "For the record, none of this I'm-smarter-than-my-parents stuff started until the daughter _you_ raised came into the picture."

"The daughter, you mean, who takes after you the most."

He hears Lizzie chuckle, and he feels her skirt brushing against his side. He wonders how her makeover went.

The girls' drawn-out directions finally speed up a little - and end when their feet land on some kind of carpet.

"May I - "

"Yes, Dad, now."

Darcy obeys and frees his hand to undo his blindfold.

"Surprise!" The room - Charlie, Jane, Lizzie's secretary, Lizzie's parents, Georgiana, Fitz - erupts into joyful celebration. It's a familiar space. A quick catalogue reminds him it's Lizzie's office. But it's been dressed up somehow - all streamers and colors and balloons and formally-dressed guests.

"Lizzie!" Jane flies forward first.

Darcy turns - and gets his first true sight of his dazzling wife in a floor-length purple gown. It's not glittery or stiff, but it is understated and powerful. It bares her shoulders and shows a tantalizing bit of cleavage. It hugs her curves before flowing out at the waist to form something of a mini-train.

She's either been keeping a very perfect dress in her closet for years - or his daughters have maxed out his credit card with their own laudable fashion skills.

Frankly, he doesn't mind.

"Happy birthday, dear," Jane greets Lizzie with a hug.

Darcy stiffens. It was her - birthday?

A quick mental round of recall - forgotten dates, painful memories - restores his faculties. He reaches out and places a hand on Lizzie's back. He belated realizes just how bare said back is tonight.

"I'm sorry I didn't get you anything," he apologizes. He means it, too.

Lizzie smiles - and she's absolutely breathtaking. "It's just a silly tradition of celebrating in advance - what with everyone available this month. Don't worry, Will."

"And it's - always this fancy?"

She laughs. "Thank God, no."

Then she steps closer and leans close to his ear. His throat constricts.

"Usually," she whispers into his ear, "we don't get to max out a card or two."

He smiles and drinks champagne and feels warm for the rest of the night.

* * *

By the time he finally gets her to himself again, the initial excitement in the room has descended into a layer of soft, happy chatter. Everyone, even the kids, is nursing a glass of punch or wine. Everyone's poses, formal before, have relaxed into familiarity.

"So you do this every year, huh?" Darcy sips from his own glass. In the last thirty seconds, he's managed to already ogle the beautiful woman beside him thrice.

He hopes she doesn't mind.

"I have my mother's extravagant genes, I suppose." Lizzie laughs. She laughs like she doesn't mind, at least. "It's just that my birthday is the closest thing we have to an excuse for family reunions outside of Christmas."

"I see." He takes another sip. A million thoughts swirl in his mind.

She stays quiet beside him, sitting close by enough on the ottoman bench to provide a feeling of intimacy but far away enough to not be snuggling.

A small part of him wishes she did the snuggling instead.

He takes a sip. "I had no idea."

"There's a lot you don't know about me - you know?"

He turns at the unexpected response.

She looks - sad. Her voice wasn't defiant or defensive. It was just - sad.

"Well, I - I'm willing to get to know you - and Gigi - all over again," he says the most honest thing he can manage.

She nods, but she still doesn't smile.

Across the room, Gigi leads her beaming sister up to every cluster of guests - and the girls obviously bask in the glory of being admired together.

They're together, at last.

It's just too cruel to separate them again.

"They're going to miss each other," he says.

"Yeah. I know." Lizzie takes her own sip. "I'm not going to lie and say that I wouldn't either."

Darcy closes his eyes. His hands twitch, ready to grab hers on a second's notice. He refrains because he knows she wouldn't like it.

He opens his eyes. "I'm too selfish to leave them both in New York."

"And I'm too selfish to leave them both in California."

They look at each other then, and the kinship of parenthood link them in something they never truly did seem to have the first time around.

Lizzie smiles now, softly. The color of her dress draws out new depths in her eyes.

"We'll figure out something," he promises. "We can homeschool them or have them take distance lessons. Or we can, you know, alternate years or something."

"That's not good for them."

"I know," Darcy admits. He grunts, unhappy. "But we have to figure out _something_ , right? To be a family, we have to - "

He trails off at the sight of her face.

She looks tentative, worried, and scared.

He feels his heart break a little at the thought of her not sharing his hopes.

Wasn't it her all along who wanted him to go back?

"Will - "

"Or not," he backpedals. He pulls away from her and rests his head against the wall behind him. The tropical potted plant beside him, reminiscent of California, almost brings tears to his manly eyes.

"Will, I didn't say I didn't want to."

"Sure."

"I do."

"Mm hm."

"We've never - " She takes a few seconds to glance around the room before returning, thankfully, to him. "We haven't talked about this."

"Then maybe we should."

"Yes."

Ever since their first fateful reunion, with him so anxious to hold Lili that he barely realized whose house he was in, they really haven't had the chance to talk.

Now he hangs his head. "You think so?"

"Yes."

And this is the Lizzie he remembers - determined, unwavering, strong.

It's hard not to fall hard for something you've already fallen for.

"Yeah?" He offers weakly.

"Yes. We need to make some kind of arrangement - some way to make this work."

Darcy glances at the mostly-full glass his former-wife and current-something is holding. He glances at his own few droplets left.

Maybe he's drunk. Maybe he's not.

He rubs the base of his palm against his eye, thankful he doesn't wear make-up. He tries his very, very best to avoid asking her what 'this' means.

"But you think it's not good for them?" He refers back to her previous statement.

Her face softens. He realizes he's dealing with the same woman - but it's still an older, wiser, gentler version of her.

"I meant the whole, you know - transferring around thing." She slides a hand on his thigh. It's not a flirtatious touch, just a familiar one.

In this particular situation, he feels that those two things are one and the same.

He looks down for a second. "I see."

"I still want to keep you in their lives - and to keep them in each other's lives."

"Right."

" _I_ want to spend more time with Lili. It's been years since I've held her in my arms."

Darcy nods. He understands everything she means. He's gone through just as much as she has these past few weeks.

"I just don't want their existence to keep you from your happiness," Lizzie concludes.

It takes two seconds for the confusion to set in.

" _My_ happiness?"

"Well, you know - " Lizzie falters now, and her hand slips away. "I mean - "

He waits her out, while also waiting for the fog in his mind to clear.

"Lizzie - "

"Like Caroline." She shrugs awkwardly. Darcy wishes, even now, that he never hears that name again. "If it weren't for us - I mean, me and the girls - you would still be with her."

* * *

"Like Caroline. If it weren't for us - I mean, me and the girls - you would still be with her."

"No, I wouldn't." He denies it instantly. She pretends she didn't feel the shiver of excitement at the speed of his reply.

She feels him right himself to sit up straighter. She waits for him to take her hand again. He doesn't.

"Lizzie, look, I - I know I never realized that we've been married all this time - and I know I'm the one who has an ugly tally of, well, _people_ coming in and out of my life and Lili's life in this entire time that we've been apart. I'm sorry."

She looks down, getting whiplash from his sudden spurt of apology.

"But that doesn't mean that's what I _want_ ," he stresses. "I - goodness, Lizzie, if you only knew - if you only knew how I compared every single woman to you and how each and every one of them fell short. Caroline - huh, she's not even close to the more serious attempts."

She nods slightly, not exactly sure what the expected response in their unique situation is.

"Lizzie." He takes her hand now. His palm is warm, large, and all-encompassing. "Forgive me. Each time I took a woman to bed on a business trip - each time I let yet another flimsy excuse of a lady grace my arm for a new event launch - to think, I had been. To think, all that time, I had been still married to you."

Her heart stopped living in her chest. In fact, it has plummeted so thoroughly that it now throbbed helplessly by her feet.

"It's alright," she offers weakly.

"But please know - I swear, from the bottom of my heart and all that I am and have - that there's been _no one_ who can hold a candle to you and your beauty and wit and charm. There's been no one, and there will never be another."

She gulps, dangerously close to reminding him that he sounds like he's proposing.

"So please never think." By the tone of his voice, it's clear that he's concluding. "Never, for one moment, ever believe that keeping me and Lili in your life and letting us share ours with Gigi is 'keeping me from my happiness.'"

Lizzie hangs her head. A million emotions swirl in her head, and her heart.

As memorable birthday parties go - this one's for the ages.

"I'm sorry too, you know," she whispers, a minute later. She feels him relax beside her. The people flitting about in her office - dressed to the nines and giggly and bright - feel far, far away. "Not having moved on doesn't mean I haven't tried. There have been, what, three? I mean, Ned didn't last a week when he knew I had Gigi and Tom only wanted to please his ailing mother. Douglas wasn't even - "

"Lizzie, don't." Will pulls her close, into a real hug. She holds stiffly for two seconds before letting herself rest freely against his chest. The room blurs and dances. "It doesn't matter."

It doesn't matter - because it's gone, it's in the past, and it's something they'll never get back. It doesn't matter because he can recount a thousand sins and she'll forgive him, now, without question.

They've grown, and they've both learned to be stronger because of it.

She just hopes it matters - to him - that it doesn't matter, that she's willing to move on - with him - to another reckless, uncharted chapter of life.

She feels him sniff against her shoulder. She tightens her hands around his body.

It doesn't matter - because he's leaving in the morning.

"Bygones," she whispers against his cheek.

She feels him nod, and her heart gently maneuvers back to its rightful place.

* * *

They arrive home so uneventfully that it's as if it were just another day in the office. Other than everyone sporting some kind of dressed-down version of their initial glamor, the situation feels remarkably commonplace - even if it's not.

Ten minutes ago, within the span of a short drive, Lili managed to croak a sleepy "Do we _have_ to go to the airport tomorrow, Dad?"

And Will answered, too calmly for her liking, "Yes."

She expected the girls to mutiny, to screech, to protest.

It's a little unsettling that they didn't.

Now, in her relatively tiny apartment, her two children trudge off to sleep like a couple of zombie princesses. They don't complain, and they don't put up anything close to a fuss.

Is Lizzie really the only person genuinely sad about their impending departure?

Beside her, Will yawns and stretches like a teenage boy. Lizzie turns an appreciative brow his way. He smiles.

"Who knew finger food and champagne can make me feel like a rock?"

Lizzie smiles too. "My staff - and those two girls - really know how to party plan."

"Pretty well, it seems."

"I'm sure your credit card bill will bear testament to just _how_ well."

Will nods. He drags himself in long, heavy steps towards his couch of a home. He pulls off all his peripheral items of clothing until he lands on his seat in just his undershirt and unbelted slacks. If it weren't for the ridiculous proportions between him and his occupied furniture - she would've said he looked right at home.

Lizzie clears her throat. "You okay there?"

His look back is wry - and a little charming. "I'll live."

Lizzie _hears_ how nervous her own chuckle is. "Sorry that I - uhm - don't exactly have a five-star room to offer around here."

"But you have you."

She looks up sharply, eyes snapping into a locked gaze with his.

He doesn't look like he's joking, doesn't seem like he cares what he sounded like.

"New York's been home for as long as it has because of you," he says, every word crystal clear.

"You used to hate the East Coast."

"But I don't now."

A part of her gets it. A part of her still remembers how quickly she learned to love the Californian desert back when she believed it would be their forever home.

A part of her has learned, she realizes, that it's not about the place, but the people.

"Lizzie - "

She strides over to him with a newfound determination.

"Lizzie, I think - "

She grabs him by the jaw and kisses him then, a thousand hesitations flung out the window. Sitting down, he's shorter than she is - and she thinks in the back of her mind that this is probably how he feels kissing her all those other times.

Frankly, it's not too fun on the lower back.

He doesn't kiss her back right away - just lingers there like an unresponsive tablet screen. She waits two full seconds before she considers pulling away.

But he doesn't.

And he hooks her in by the waist as if they've been doing this three thousand times in the last ten years. He kisses her back fully, thoroughly. His taste is still the same, after all these long, meandering years. It takes her _this_ \- this awoken, living memory of his mouth on hers - to realize she's really never, ever moved on - at all.

The kiss pulls her forward clumsily, and she crashes against him with more force than she expected. Her hands scramble for the back of the couch, landing just before her nose can obliterate his cheekbones. The kiss turns a little more reckless, a little more sloppy. Eleven years and three months of sexual tension thrum to life like a long-dormant marquee board announcing its first show in years. She feels his hands roaming - minimally, just up and down her back - but with electric charges nonetheless. She leans in to kiss him closer, to kiss him better. His lips are already open, a thrilling invitation.

Their tongues find each other like magnets. She grips his waist more tightly with her thighs, maintaining her balance.

His bare forearms help her to turn around, shift back, and - crash loudly on to the couch with an earth-shattering thud.

And they pause - sweaty and breathless and inches away from having actual clothes come actually off.

"Dad, Mom, are you guys okay?" Lili's voice carries over through the bathroom door. "Do you need - help?"

Lizzie slides herself away from her hunky ex-something to sit contritely and primly beside him.

Will, still panting, pulls back just enough to unentangle any of his limbs with any of hers.

"Dad?"

"We're fine," says Will in a still, strong voice. He's either very good at hiding excitement from his daughter or really less affected by the kiss than Lizzie was.

Either thought is sobering.

"Do you need help, dear?" Lizzie throws the question back her mini-me's way.

"We're fine." The girls giggle. For some reason - some unknown, weird reason - they seem happier than depressed about this being their last night together in one home.

"Good," says Will. "Go to bed."

"Yes, Daddy," they answer in a silly unison. The sound of young, active feet shuffle around in response.

Lizzie, panting less now, steals a glance sideways.

Will is smiling, perhaps ironically.

"You were saying?" She prompts, for lack of better options.

"I was saying I think - you looked extremely beautiful tonight."

There's no hint of flattery in his voice - no flirtatiousness or hidden motives.

And she loves him, so much.

"Thanks for staying here, Will."

"Thanks for letting us come."

"Anytime, you know? Anytime."

They look at each other again - with an entirely different type of familiarity. The charge of feelings, at their roaring peak just a minute ago, has ebbed away into a deciding calm.

Lizzie smiles. "We'll make it work, right?"

She barely knows what she's talking about. She barely knows what _it_ is supposed to be around here.

"Yeah," he agrees. Another yawn overcomes him. It's obvious that there won't be any more last-night-of-camp sneaking around tonight.

Lizzie pats his knee. "I'll get you another blanket."

She almost doesn't make it to her bedroom before the first tear falls.

* * *

 _A/N: I know this is all a little too dragged out for dramatic effect. I got carried away trying to recreate a version of the yacht date in the movie. I like the movie's version more, but I hope these two idiots' personal pining managed to stir up some kind of longing. I did enjoy writing out Darcy's little speech. He's a lot more romantic when drunk :) Only two more chapters to go!_


	11. Chapter 11

"My phone!" Lili shouts, right before Lizzie's about to slam the trunk shut. Pale young legs - Californian tan long gone - turn and run up the stairs. Gigi, indelibly supportive, runs after her.

"Lili!" Will hollers, loud enough to be heard above the Manhattan morning humdrum but not quite enough to constitute yelling. "Lili, you put in it in your backpack!"

But the girls are long gone - officially, to find a non-existent phone - unofficially, probably to say their fifteenth goodbye this morning.

It's not like Lizzie's maternal instincts haven't picked up on the huddled conversations, secretive glances, and nervous shivers.

Honestly, a tiny part of her wishes she could be as teenage-dramatic about it all as the kids could.

"You sure you're up for this?" Will's addressing her now, his right arm still perched on top of her car. His shoulders look broader this way - his eyes so much lighter thanks to the morning sun. "JFK isn't exactly three traffic-streets away."

Lizzie smiles. Why can't she tell him how she really feels again?

She's the one who suggested that he go back to his life in the first place - right.

"Anything to run away from work a little."

Will laughs. His eyes crinkle more these days - distinguished crow's feet gracing both eyes. "Because you've been the model employee these last three weeks."

"Well, ahem. Model employ- _er_."

He smiles. She smiles back. In another universe - where they didn't have this half-marriage or twin daughters or a whirlwind Vegas romance as the very foundation of their relationship - maybe they would already have their own home in suburbia, surrounded by laughter and pets and jolly neighbors.

Or, maybe, they would be the power couple they were always meant to be - one hand in tech, one hand in art - an unstoppable societal force.

"It's not there," Lili pouts when she reappears on the sidewalk. Gigi looks quiet beside her, too bad of a liar to correlate Lili's claims with any believable, corresponding body language.

"It's in your backpack," Will says in a fatherly tone. "I think we got everything."

"And not a moment too soon," adds Lizzie.

Will gives a look - a loaded look. They both know she woke up this morning to a mostly-loaded car. They both know he's asked her thrice if she's _absolutely sure_ she wants to spend her day taking him and Lili to the airport when her company chauffeur is helping anyway.

They both know - she thinks - that he's checked every single box on the 'want-to-leave-as-soon-as-possible' column; and it's not like her to ask him to stay when he's so explicitly spoken with his actions.

Can she blame him? How _does_ one respond to a semi-ex-wife just grabbing you with no prompting and making out with you right on her couch while your children get ready for bed a thin wall away?

Lizzie swallows the hurt and the hesitation.

She ushers the girls into the miraculously clear backseat with a smile on her face.

She and Will may have chosen not to break up - and they may never really be 'just friends' in this version of the universe - but, at least, they're something in between.

And she's determined to protect that something no matter what - which includes being the best parents they can be.

"Is that it?" Will asks from the passenger seat, buckling himself up like it's just another trip to just another everyday stop.

Lizzie takes a second to take it in - from chatting twin sisters to loaded trunk to how much of her heart is tied up in the contents of this tiny car _right this moment_.

She tries to sigh discreetly, to exude more exhaustion than grief.

"Yeah. I think that's it. Let's go."

* * *

It's a little relieving for Darcy when, at long last, everyone and everything is packed where they belong and on their way. He sighs under his breath, his right hand fiddling inside his pocket. He feels lopsided today - physically at least - with all the regular contents of his pockets concentrated on his left side. Emotionally, it's his right that's bearing all the weight.

"And Emily said that _she_ liked Zach, and it got all confused and everything."

"Did he like her?"

"I dunno. Who does? Emily herself didn't really know until Christmas break."

"At least my friends aren't that dramatic."

Darcy chuckles, still under his breath. Seeing the girls together now - so casual despite what they know their dad has planned - he wonders how they ever survived apart from each other. Lili needs Gigi's serenity, Gigi needs Lili's vibrance and spark.

In a way, it mirrors his own marriage - and rekindles his determination to recover that part of his life at whatever cost.

"It'll take me a month to stop this migraine," Lizzie teases the girls when the giggles and whispers get a little too loud.

Darcy smiles. _This_ is his family - and where they are will always be his home.

And he's lucky Cartier had exactly what he wanted, on extremely short notice.

It pays to shop in New York.

"Sunny day, isn't it?" Lizzie chirps. Darcy turns and realizes in the process that it's the first time he's looked at her directly since getting in the car. It's a little heartbreaking - and plenty ironic - that she's resorting to small talk while he's mulling over the first real proposal he's ever had to plan.

It's not that he's planned all that much. It wouldn't feel natural if he did.

Social awkwardness is his thing, quite unfortunately.

"Yeah - clear skies and all that."

She smiles at his reply. He notices that she's been shifting, restlessly changing her sitting position every two seconds. All that rustling he heard wasn't from the girls - but from her.

"If only the roads were as clear, huh?" He replies.

Her smile falters. Now, what _she's_ feeling starts to make sense in his mind.

The girls were in on it. He needed their help with the ring. Her secretary was in on it. He needed his help with clearing her schedule for the tickets.

But Lizzie herself - may just feel a sense of abandonment he didn't anticipate.

"Liz - "

"It's fine." She shakes her head, blinking. It guilts him quite a bit to know his little charade of nonchalance has managed to hurt her.

Time and buildings and cars whiz by and, soon, they've crossed the East River and have La Guardia's big glass walls and climbing form works in sight. Darcy straightens, not exactly ready for his plans to get interrupted by a strict cop's eye for loose seat belts.

Even the girls stop talking when they pull up to the curb. Uniformed helpers, ever-present for their business class guests, swarm their family quickly and have all their bags unloaded in a matter of seconds.

The girls skip along, hand-in-hand, after the luggage. To an insider's eye, the two junior accomplices really can't be any more obvious. But Lizzie stands on her own by the open, empty trunk - sniffing every other heartbeat. She's dressed casually today - no business suit or heels or killer make-up. And Darcy holds his breath as he walks over.

"Hey." He takes her hands. She lets him. They're lucky this part of the airport isn't crowded this early.

"You got everything?" The tears in her eyes are obvious now. A few stream down her face. He places both her hands together so he can spare some fingers to wipe her cheeks.

"Lizzie."

"I'll miss you - and Lili. So much."

"So much."

They don't say anything for a moment. He doesn't know where to start. She doesn't seem to have anything else to say.

The girls, for once, are cooperative - and watch quietly from their spot on the curb.

"Did a lot of shopping?" Lizzie's question is unexpected.

He slowly traces her line of sight to the heap of suitcases - some of them obviously hers.

"Oh, right - I, uhm - maybe." He regulates his breathing. It's now or never - now or never. "I hope you don't mind that I - "

"No, take whatever. They're just - luggage."

They're not you - the thought hovers in the air between them.

Darcy tightens his grip on her hands and pulls them just so much closer to each other.

"So," she talks between sobs. She starts to pull her hands away in a gesture that clearly indicates the beginning of a goodbye hug. "I guess you have to - "

"Those suitcases _are_ yours, Lizzie."

He watches the thought sink in.

"Mine?"

"It's just that I've been thinking - that it's been a while - since we've had a real family vacation."

Her confusion doesn't dissipate, so he dives a hand into his left pocket to fish out his phone. He lets go of her hands reluctantly - just long enough to tap open his e-ticket file.

"What do you think about Vegas?" He turns his screen around, to the bright little display with a QR code and an 'LGA to LVS e-ticket' title branded on top.

She reaches up slowly, and he lets her take the blob of technology from his hand. He waits for her to scroll down, to see every single name on the four-person file.

"Boarding passes."

"Yes."

"For us."

"Yeah." He swallows, a little impatient with himself for this whole roundabout approach. Lili's going to give him an earful, that's for sure.

"How about you?" She looks up. She's stopped crying, but remnants of tears still glisten on her lash lines.

"Me?"

"Your ticket - to San Jose."

"Lizzie." He wraps his fingers around her wrists. They feel small and feminine but strong and firm. "I think I've bought the only tickets that matter."

* * *

"Will - "

He drops on one knee. The girls squeal. He's lucky he's not famous enough for reporters to be tailing him at every turn.

"Lizzie, I don't know, frankly, how - how we even got here, again - in an entirely different way and in a journey so much more amazing because our daughters are in it." He sniffs, the weight of life-changing emotions starting to press down on him after accumulating for hours and days and weeks. "I just know I don't want this to end. I don't want us to be an _actual_ family and pretend we can just go back to being strange, faraway ones who don't get to see or hear or be with each other every day."

"Will." She sniffs too.

"I love you, Lizzie." The words are liberating, once spoken. He envelopes her cold hands between his palms. "And, I know, we've somehow managed to agree about staying married - on paper, on some legal sort of level. But I don't just want to stay married. I want to _be_ married - to you. I want us to come home and talk about work and complain about the secrets Lili and Gigi are hiding from us. I want us to watch Broadway show after Broadway show and marvel over the fact that you've brought these wonderful things to life. I want to be proud of you - of us - _while_ standing next to you the next opening night."

"You'll move here - for us?"

"I'll do whatever I need to do - to keep our family together."

"But Will - your work and your house and your - "

"They're nothing in light of this, really, and - " He pauses, and he turns on the most charming smile he can manage. "Wouldn't it be nice to have a vacation home somewhere when we want to fly south for the winter?"

Lizzie half laughs, half cries. He's holding his breath, and he knows his daughters are as well.

"Vegas," she says, when he finally fishes out the ring in his pocket.

"I thought it would be - special."

"But my stuff - "

"The girls packed it."

"But my work - "

"I cleared it with Cole."

"But the - but we - "

"But what?" He knows she's scrambling now, her autocorrect defenses jumping up - and slowly falling back down. "Lizzie, will you - stay and be married - to me? It doesn't really have to Vegas, you know. We can go wherever you want."

She laughs more than cries now, which is a good sign.

"What do you say?"

"Yes."

"To what? Vegas?"

She beams. "To everything."

He stands up and pulls her into a kiss, anchoring her body firmly against his along the way. It's sweet to kiss her again like this, public and assuring and with the promise of a hundred thousand more kisses to come. She's still sniffing, and laughing - so he kisses her again, and again. He's lucky she's participating as willingly and enthusiastically as he.

The girls' squealing and jumping and La Guardia's morning rush yield a decidedly different - but charismatic - backdrop to this second go round.

"I love you, Lizzie," he says, inches from her face.

"I love you, Will."

And what can he do but kiss her again, slide the ring on her finger, and kiss her some more?

Cars start honking them a few moments after, and it's regrettably time to postpone any more snuggling over lost time and years and distance.

He takes Gigi's hand, Lizzie takes Lili's, and they stroll into the crowded check-in area as if they were sharing a magic carpet ride.

The TSA officer looks at them weird the entire time they go through security.

Darcy supposes it's inevitable - what with their happy, idiotic smiles.

* * *

 _A/N: That was really hard to write! I hope the effort paid off. Just a short epilogue is left after this. Thank you so much to everyone who has been following and supporting this story!_


	12. Chapter 12

_**Three Months Later**_

"Good morning."

She blinks her eyes open, the sunrise soft on her face. Will's nuzzling, with a freshly-shaven chin, are even softer.

"Good morning," she mumbles, feeling more rested than she has in years.

"Breakfast's getting cold," he says, before seating himself on the small ledge of bed between her and the floor.

She rolls around under the sheets for a bit, soaking in the luxury of a veritable world-class resort. The white linen feels divine against her skin. The negligee she threw back on last night after – certain activities – keeps her just warm enough in the tropical weather.

"Good morning," Will repeats.

She looks up and zooms in on his face. The blissful, giddy joy of a _real_ honeymoon weaves through her every muscle with warm, loving strings.

She laughs when he kisses her again.

"Do we really have anywhere to go?" She asks, after he deftly pulls her up to seat during their latest little make out session.

Will smiles, shakes his head. "I just have a couple of e-mails to send."

"And?"

"And – nothing." He gazes at her with so much love in his eyes that she wonders if she would ever breathe again. "I've got more – important priorities."

She yelps like a kid when he pulls her up all the way, sets her on shaky morning legs, and starts kissing the life out of her. Wandering, naughty hands make breakfast _almost_ grow entirely cold.

They're laughing like a pair of silly twenty-five-year-old first-time honeymooners when they finally amble their way to their balcony spread. The ocean waters frolic below them, crashing in gentle spurts of foam against the stilts that hold up their private cabin.

"Thanks for – making it work," she says after her first croissant.

He smiles at her, adorable crinkles at play. He takes her hand and kisses it. "You make your share of sacrifices too."

She laughs. "Tour management is basically volunteering to travel for free, attend curtain calls, and have everyone clap for you. You know that, right?"

"And taking care of the girls, too."

She shrugs. "You're handling math and sciences. I take arts and language. Online tutors do the rest. I fail to see the difficulty."

"Thank God for technology, huh?" His hair – ruffled like this – makes the eyes peeking over his glass rim even sexier.

Man, she should get a grip.

"It helps you telecommute, at least." She grabs another few bites. The food isn't the best, but the view certainly elevates it.

"And thanks for making sure the tour stops at San Francisco."

"Just for three weeks."

"For three _entire_ weeks."

"We – make it work."

They toast to each other, the sea birds providing the ambient music, before continuing their quest to finish their over-laden breakfast spread.

"Is it weird that the girls planned this?" She nibbles on the banana. Who knew they could ever be this good?

Will chuckles. "Maybe."

"It's nice of them to clear our scheds and arrange to ship themselves to Charlie and Jane – but, I mean, I don't know how comfortable I am knowing that they're equipped to plan romantic getaways this young."

Her husband's smile mirrors the warmth she feels in her heart.

"Maybe they know they want a little brother."

She swats his hand, and he steals it away a second late.

He pretends to be hurt, wringing his big, manly hands pettily. It's not the first time the topic's come up, and the thought has been slowly etching away at her heart until she's become a lot more receptive to the thought than she's ever been.

They're not getting any younger – but it's not like they're _that_ old.

"To a happy future?" She offers her paper-umbrella-adorned glass again. Some thoughts can be postponed for just a little bit later.

He clinks their glasses together, smiling. "To a happy future. Some things are just sweeter the second time around."


End file.
